


Breaking In

by Nesrie, Paladin (Nesrie)



Series: Home [2]
Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Guilt, Hunters & Hunting, M/M, Self-Doubt, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2020-01-01 08:48:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 28,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18332675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nesrie/pseuds/Nesrie, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nesrie/pseuds/Paladin
Summary: Progress was made shortly after Arthur's arrival, but there is still a lot of work to be done. John might actually be up to the challenge, maybe.





	1. Day 1

**Author's Note:**

> I still have the writer's bug.

Winter threatened the small home and the garden and all John loved with ever quickening winds and shorter days. Sometimes Arthur mentioned it was coming but mostly they just all knew not long now. Every morning John awoke as early as the sun rose, leaned over to kiss Abigail and gathered his clothes, checked on his son and finally peaked in on Arthur. Arthur’s room wasn’t really a room at all. They meant to have it as storage, sort of an extra place to just put things, and he managed to put someone in there more precious to him than anything in the world, even more so than the old black hat Arthur silently let him keep. It also meant the room had just enough space for a somewhat proper bed, a stool and chest and maybe one day a mirror, if Arthur would let him hang it; it had no window. For once getting up before Arthur didn’t seem like much of a challenge anymore. John rose with the sun and Arthur rose with the sounds of the family. 

He pulled on a heavy cloak and ventured down the stables and the barn. The stables had stalls for four horses and a larger holding area. Arthur didn’t really like showing a great deal of affection or pursuing any “activities” in or near the house so John kept one stall with clean straw, a bucket of water, a little jar of salve, and a few old blankets in it, just in case. The barn remained mostly empty save for one milking cow and a few chickens he let in and out until the coop might be built. He fed them all, including that black thoroughbred Arthur brought home a couple of weeks ago that they kept in the corral. The thing was half-starved, real rugged looking but the man seemed convinced there was spirit in him. John dropped the bucket of grain nearby, rested his armpits along the wooden fencing and watched the animal eat. Arthur knew horses. The thing was tall, coat shining now after a good brushing and the beast seemed prone to bite John’s hand off every time he reached for him. It’d take time, but Arthur said they’d get a good price for him, eventually, a real good price.

When he came in the house, he found Abigail at the stove, and Jack and Arthur at the table, eating eggs. She finished up with the porridge or the oatmeal. To be honest John rarely could tell the difference between the two. She crumbled some bacon in there so at least that would help even if it all just tasted like mush to him. Jack never complained, neither did Arthur. The best thing that ever happened to them were those chickens though. Eggs, he liked the eggs even if they were left runny or so overcooked they kind of felt like old leather, still tasted like eggs. 

Abigail wore a simple white and blue dress today, covered in a brown apron. John stepped behind her, grabbed the mush bowls, gave her a kiss and deposited them in front of Jack and Arthur. When she left out back to take down the laundry and put up new, he grabbed the pot, ladled himself a bowl and added another scoop to Arthur’s. Arthur didn’t object or complain, and he never would. John joined the other two at the table. “You plan on breaking that horse some more today?”

“You break your horses. I tame mine.” Arthur sipped his coffee and didn’t elaborate. “Maybe.”

John grinned, glancing at Jack who kind of snorted off his giggle. “I saw him throw you yesterday, twice. If anyone’s doing the breaking around here it’s him.”

Arthur huffed. “He’s just reminding me.”

“Of what Uncle Arthur?

Those blue eyes that often just focused on breakfast in the mornings and might only dart in John’s direction once before they managed to get outside together, shifted to the young boy. “That he’s bigger and younger than me.”

“How often do you feel the need to have that kind of reminder?” John challenged. Oh he knew Arthur wouldn’t like that, not near Abigail or Jack. It changed the conversation to… that. And that wasn’t to be discussed so casually around here except John never met a rule he wasn’t eager to break, as often as it could be broken.

Arthur rewarded his effort immediately because those blue eyes moved in John’s direction. God Arthur, John thought, you make these games so damn irresistible. Even now he saw the slight downturn of the man’s lips, how his eyes sort of narrowed just a bit and not even a coffee cup served as a shield for all of that. “It ain’t up to me. That’s his call… kid. He’ll learn to trust eventually.”

“And Arthur will learn to trust him too Jack. It’s all part of the process. Finish your breakfast and go help your mother.” 

Jack grinned, drank his milk and ran out the back door to bother his mother for several hours at least.

Arthur stood and grabbed the empty dishes to put in the sink. It’d all end there if John let it, but of course he didn’t; he’d asked for a reason. “I’m going to town today. It should be a few days there and then back again.” Arthur’s shoulders stiffened a bit. Arthur hadn’t been to town since he got here, and John hadn’t left either. Aside from a few hours around the evening time when the man ventured to the stream or apparently ran off and found random horses, they’d not been parted for long. “I figured it might be worthwhile for you to come with.”

“You plan on getting lonely Marston?” The blonde asked gruffly.

“It seems civilized folks who have property have to pay this thing they call taxes. I’ve got to go and do what the little paper says I have to do… every year. I think Abigail might appreciate you accompanying me, make sure I don’t spend it on something silly like booze and women.”

Arthur lifted his chin briefly, turned so his hips rested against the counter and just peered at John with one of those looks, a gaze that mixed suspicion with curiosity and accusation. “She need to tell you that?”

Larger than life, that remained the best way John knew how to explain the look and presence of Arthur. The man stood there, resting against a counter-top, having just eaten breakfast, but with the gun-belt around his hip, a simple shirt on with the sleeves rolled up and the way he just kind of peered at him under that hat, it was no wonder men often felt challenged or threatened by him just for… being. It was also pretty damn hot. “No.” John replied with a smirk and a lighter tone than he really intended. “And neither do you. It’s nice knowing she’s worried that I might find me a girl there, nice knowing she still gets… jealous.”

Arthur’s lips twitched, just kind of pursed briefly but it didn’t indicate how he was feeling one way or another. John could guess though, and probably guess right. The blonde wiped his hands on a cloth and walked past him without a word, but the simple nod was enough. That was it, that was that except, well of course John wasn’t letting up that easily.

“You’re right about one thing Morgan.” Arthur paused in the doorway while John continued. “I do break them, so I can handle them better, get them do what I want. Even if they think they don’t want it... they always do.”

Arthur left the house and headed straight for the corral.

“You shouldn’t push him like that.” Abigail voiced behind him. 

John leaned back in his chair. “I’m not going to hurt him Abigail. What’s going to hurt is when we take that horse from him.”

She placed a hand on his shoulder. “We need the money. He knows that. It’s why he brought him home.

John stood. “It’s why he said he brought him home.” He tipped his hat to her. “Madam, I won’t be returning to this house this evening. Is there anything you require from town?”

She gave him a light slap across the cheek. “Oh knock that nonsense off. Our son would be thrilled if you brought him home something, anything, nothing expensive you hear?”

John grinned and gave a nod. “Yes Ma’am.”

He ducked away from the towel she threw at him and went to survey the land a bit. He liked to walk the area, examine the tracks. He was no Arthur and certainly not a Charles. Sometimes he wondered about Charles, assuming he was out there in the world someplace, probably just enjoying no one talking too much. John never had the patience for careful and quiet hunting. He’d prefer to just ride up and shoot the first thing that came around. Meat was meat. What difference did it make if it was a little old and tough or young and a smaller amount. The damn stew always tasted the same to him, which was still better than what Abigail managed to do these days. He could roast a bird, even though he didn’t really expect Arthur to admit that, unless he pushed the man to. He knew his lover appreciated it though based on the kiss he got later that night the first time he kept to his word, even used some of those wild carrots the man often came home from the stream with. Of course he was greedy, impatient and not at all satisfied with how often they had quiet moments together, and it had to be that, private. They hadn’t bedded since the last time too.

“Fucking Morgan.” John hissed lowly in irritation although he dropped to his knee to run his fingers along a track, coyote most likely, or a very small wolf. He shuddered despite trying to will himself against the emotions associated with the word… wolf. He reminded himself he taught Jack how to shoot, and Abigail too when she’d listen to him. And when he wasn’t looking too closely, he’d seen Arthur do the same, lining bottles up along a fence and showing the kid how to use a pistol. Anyone coming to their home expecting an easy mark would be unpleasantly surprised, and a single coyote or wolf wouldn’t fair well either.

After a complete circle John returned to the corral to watch Arthur finish up with his current passion, that thoroughbred.

“Easy boy.” Arthur ran his fingers lightly along the long horse, the short coat shining after a good long brushing and while John didn’t dare put his fingers near that mouth, the other man patted his nose and pulled on the bit, trying to get the animal used to it. If the man didn’t have to kill and steal and deal with chaos for a living, John guessed this is what he’d be doing somewhere, maybe for someone else. That, well that he didn’t like as much.

“You just going to stand there gaping or you gonna tell me you’re ready to leave?”

John smiled immediately. “How’d you know I was even here?”

Arthur turned easily, favoring his left leg a bit which told John he’d been thrown again, even if he didn’t hear it or see it. “A few things but mostly I can hear the metal on your belt, and if it weren’t you there’d be fighting or killing by now.”

“You should’ve drawn on me if you weren’t sure.”

“I was sure.” Arthur removed the bridle and bit and took it to the stables. “We can probably get a good price for him now John. If we don’t want to go to town again before winter sets in maybe.”

“Nah.” John kicked the ground with his boot. He’d find a way to keep that horse, one way or another. “He threw you again, and if you want a good reputation we want him to at least let the next one avoid that for a good week.”

The blonde laughed lowly. “My reputation? John, I probably have a few thousand dollars in bounty posters alone, and that’s just the ones I know of.”

“No, no you don’t.” John replied as he led them to the stables to get the less impressive but still sturdy horses ready. “Arthur Morgan the outlaw died at the top of the mountains, killed by the Pinkertons, stopped by the Pinkertons. Everyone knows that. Your name might be just like his, but he’s dead and what would a man like him be doing living on a quiet ranch anyhow?”

Arthur hoisted his saddle onto the chestnut coated Morgan. The animal was sturdy and obedient but it lacked spirit, not quite right for John’s Morgan. “You figure that’s all there is to it?”

“This place is not even half the size of Valentine. It’s probably got one Sheriff and one deputy and a bunch of drunk men they have to deputize if there’s any actual trouble. You and I could take the whole place.”

A frown formed immediately and Arthur approached John, standing there looking all rigid and displeased, a tree trunk of a man. The empty stall wasn’t far, and boy was John tempted. “You know you can’t go around touching me in a place like that right John, and if we shoot up an entire town there will be questions, no matter who they think is dead.”

He laughed. Damn it to hell, he couldn’t help it. Arthur looked all serious and defensive, and Abigail wanted him to take the man along with him to make sure the money went where it was supposed to. It’s like they really did think he was dumber than a bag of rocks, and he loved them both for it, thinking that and still being with him, made him feel like that ugly swan fella, like they saw something in him he sometimes didn’t see. “Oh just get on the damn horse Arthur. We’re not going to shoot up any town. I promise I won’t play with you in front of the other fellas. Your honor is safe with me.”

His companion huffed but finished readying the horse and mounted him, waiting for John to do the same. They left together at a casual pace.

An hour, maybe two hours in John sort of shifted on his horse and sighed. Now Arthur liked silence, a whole lot of it, almost as much as he liked nature. He figured that’s why he and Charles got along so well and maybe why Arthur didn’t take John with him to do anything but specific missions. So he liked to talk and engage and smile and drink and well things he knew Arthur liked too just not as often. And normally the silence between them might be worthwhile, even appreciated by the blonde except… John knew this wasn’t that. For one thing, Arthur rode a little too stiffly, not relaxed at all. The man didn’t look at him, not even a glance, and an hour in without some sort of helpful tidbit, some fact that he was convinced John didn’t know? No, this was pouting. Arthur might not seem like the pouting type, but John recognized it for what it was. 

“Arthur, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make fun.”

“No, no you did.” At least Arthur’s tone lacked any real heat.

John pursed his lips. So Arthur wasn’t angry or offended which left either hurt or uncertain maybe. The ride was too long to endure this the entire way. “Okay, so I was having some fun, but I didn’t mean anything by it, honest.”

A heavy sigh sounded and Arthur gave him just a hint of those fine blue eyes under the shadow of his hat when he glanced in his direction. “Everyone keeps telling you how ugly you are John.”

John flinched, expecting the worse and preparing himself for something awful that was about to come out of Arthur’s mouth, kind of like the couple of years after he came back, just mean, downright cruel.

“But you ain’t ugly John. There’s a hardness to you, a real edge, and there is this softer side, well that’s the part that seems to get ladies in your lap at saloons or camp, charm I think most would call it. I guess I kind of like the whole thing, even your dumbass remarks and stupid plans and the careless way you think I know how to handle myself around you and a whole town of people.”

What? John reached out and gave Arthur’s reins a brief tug. In the old days, even a patient Arthur wouldn’t allow that but this time, well he was willing to take the risk. “What do you mean around me? We’ve been to towns plenty of times.”

Arthur gave his reins a good tug to get them out of John’s hands. His eyes locked with John’s but the anger there, John had a feeling it wasn’t exactly aimed at him. “That was before. I told you this, this thing between us changes everything. You want to act like it don’t, but it does.”

Before John knew what was happening, a smile spread across his face which just seemed to agitate his companion who kicked his horse to ride ahead. The smile turned into a brief laugh, but John soon followed, catching-up within a few moments. “Cause I ain’t a woman, is that it Arthur? You don’t know if you should protect me or try and shield me or something. Is that why we’ve only kissed a little, brushed hands, pitching woo in the stall and small stuff like that since that one night? I thought maybe you were just adjusting to the idea. I was giving you space!”

“Don’t call it pitching woo. We’re not like those folks John.” Arthur protested. “You were waiting for me to ask?”

John realized that was a real question, and damn if maybe he was. “Maybe. I mean courting in the stall is one thing, but you seemed real unsure about going further than that again. I thought maybe, well you like it better when camping than at home. Were you waiting for me to push?”

Arthur glanced around them as if to confirm there was no one around although John hadn’t seen anyone down these trails for days at a time. They were not exactly real close to town. “It’s only been a few weeks Marston, and whatever we’re doing here, it ain’t courting.”

“A few weeks!” John scoffed. “Shit. You think that’s not a long time to go without sex?” He clicked his tongue and shook his head. “I can’t even imagine. Before our night together, how long had it been?”

Arthur looked ahead at this point, his body tense. “I don’t think I want to have this conversation with you right now.”

“Arthur.” John rode ahead and guided his horse to stop abruptly in front of the other mount. Neither horse liked that of course, and they made a bit of a ruckus about it with the Morgan throwing its head back a bit. 

“Damn it John.” Arthur growled at him. “That was a damn foolish thing to do.”

“Well you’re not really talking to me Arthur. You’re just barking at me and telling me what not to do and what not to call it. If you need something from me old man you have to tell me. I’m not that smart. I mean I’d prefer you not shout it at me like Abigail does, but at least she knows she has to tell me.”

Arthur turned his horse to the right as if to ride around John, but he didn’t push the animal further just yet. “I need to know that you want to do it again, and you want to do it again with me, and not just because there isn’t anyone else around you’d rather be with.” And he said it while looking John straight in the eyes.

“Hell yes I do.” John replied almost immediately and without thought and with such excitement he kind of forgot they weren’t at home. “Jesus Arthur did you think, did you…” And then he sort of remembered about Mary and how hard Arthur tried to please her and court her and when she finally had him, really had him she just threw him away because he wasn’t good enough. “I’m not just about the chase.” John raised his hand to Arthur’s cheek. “I swear Arthur if I wind up hurting you it’s going to be because I’m dumb or misunderstand, not because I’m an ass.” Arthur returned his gaze, steady like. That was progress right?

Once John saw Arthur’s shoulders sort of relax again he continued. “Let’s get some distance today, set camp, and we’ll see if we can get some fish to go with Abigail’s biscuits. You like fishing right?”

“Yeah…” The older man gave a brief smile. They both knew John hated it though, but camp, fishing, these were areas Arthur felt comfortable with, was good at doing. That might make the whole conversation a lot better. “That woman’s biscuits will be hard as a rock without milk.”

John smirked and edged just ahead of him, then he kicked horse a little too hard which made him dart forward. "We’ve got better than milk, we’ve got whiskey!” Of course he didn’t let up any; they were racing within minutes like they didn’t have a care in the world.


	2. Chapter 2 – Evening 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys are on their way to town, and John has a little surprise for Arthur, dare he say, a plan. There is also too much alcohol involved, so John finds out a little surprise himself.

A handful of biscuits and way too much whiskey later they were sitting at a campfire a few minutes away from the stream burning their fish and eating it like it tasted as good as the best meals Pearson ever made. 

John took a big swig of whiskey. “Do you know Arthur, at night, after you’re done cleaning your guns and boots and whatever it is you do with your saddle I just stand in the doorway and look at you because you look so peaceful and warm under your blanket? I kind of regret giving that to you because I can’t see much more than your handsome face now.” He felt flush and happy and well the glow of the fire with the whiskey made up for whiskey soaked and ultimately soggy biscuits and burned fish. But the way Arthur was looking at him now, well that almost sobered him up, almost. Instead John giggled. “What?”

Arthur removed his hat and set it nearby. “You talk a lot when drunk Marston.”

“Yeah well I heard you and Lenny got so drunk you two wound up in jail, and you almost drowned a man. Why’d you do that anyway, try and drown him?”

Arthur extended his hand and John readily gave him their bottle. “I don’t rightly know. I remember a lot of Lennys.”

“A lot?”

“Yeah they all looked like him.”

“Who?”

“Damn near everyone.” Arthur chuckled.

John grinned. “You can hold your liquor pretty well. You must’ve drank a whole bottle and then some.”

“Not as well as you can.” Arthur admitted. “Not many like you John.” A dark shadow colored his face for a moment. “It’d been a couple of years.”

John stretched his legs out, played with the bullets on his belt. He was a little slow at the moment, only sort of catching on to what Arthur tried to say. “Years for what?”

“Since I had sex with anyone, not counting, that one time.”

Whatever he found fascinating about his belt immediately lost its shine when he lifted his eyes to look at the man near him. Arthur leaned back and looked all relaxed as he gazed into the flames of the campfire except Arthur wasn’t really focused on that fire at all; he had had that empty gaze, that thinking gaze Hosea called it once. Not many noticed that distant memory expression because it didn’t look all that different from Arthur’s disinterested one. John knew better though, and it was kind of strange how they kept sitting like this, ordinary like, near each other but not real close even though eventually John planned get right next to him anyway. Maybe this is what confused Arthur some, how they shifted to like before and then to now without real thought, or at least not for John. “One time?”

Light eyes moved to the side, away from John, away from the fire. “I saved a man from a cougar once; he was kind of screeching in the trees hanging-up there like he thought it would just lose interest or something. Then there was this man up by the mountains that got his foot caught in a trap, was bleeding out real bad, so I got him loose of it and gave him the bandages and medicine I had. A city man got lost on his way to the, well city, and there was that one time when I was foolish, let my guard down, and when I entered the house a real ugly man invited me into, well he knocked me out. I was pretty out of it, but I’m sure he did it.”

John moved, got real close to Arthur. His fingers covered Arthur’s around the almost empty bottle, but he didn’t take it. With as much as they’d been drinking, he found it hard to really focus, but a part of him knew he had to. There was this thing inside him that told him to pay attention even with enough alcohol to have him giggling silly, and by God he intended to. If what Arthur was saying was true though… he wondered how much of this confession was the liquor and how much was trust. Maybe there was a little more trust in there than was obvious because of the way he kind of led up to that specific story, but only after the ones that seemed interesting but not bad. “Where’s he live?”

Arthur peered at him quizzically. “Live?”

“I’m going to hunt this fucker down, stick the barrel of my gun in his mouth, and blow his goddamn brains out.”

And he must have sounded pretty damn serious and scary because the way Arthur looked at him now showed a certain level of concern not readily seen by a man who robbed trains, could break a man’s neck with his bare hands and once had one of the highest bounties on his head in this part of the country. “John.”

“Why, why didn’t you tell any of us? Why didn’t you go back and kill him? And am I right? This guy ain’t dead?” John’s heart beat quickly, a mixture of concern as well as not fully understanding Arthur’s choice; the anger he felt simmered as he tried to control his line of questioning, tried.

Arthur snorted bitterly. “You mean like enter the camp and when Dutch asked me how I’m doing, if I continued to prove my worth by bringing in enough money to just tell him fine, hand him a wad of cash and say I let a ugly ass man fuck me today, was kind of out of it so I can’t really tell you exactly how he did it or if.. or if I…”

John grasped Arthur’s chin, turned it and leaned forward so their lips might meet in a firm but not too aggressive kiss. When their lips parted, he ran his fingers through Arthur’s short, thick and blonde hair. He loved that hair, just as it was, dark blonde with just enough length to grab if he wanted. “That man don’t count, and the one before, when you were drunk, whether you took advantage of him or he did you, that don’t count neither.” 

A soft sound escaped Arthur’s lips; at least he looked present again, the distant gaze replaced by sorrow and an acknowledgment of what John said. “I should’ve spent less time hating you John Marston and more time trusting you. The things I’ve seen, done… had done to me.”

“I hate that Dutch sent you out there alone all the time. What’s the point in a gang if we’re not really traveling together? You were worried about me scouting, just that once, but you did all that dangerous stuff alone all the time, and I wanted to go with you but…”

Arthur’s brows rose. 

“I didn’t know how to go with you and not keep having you hate me by doing the one thing you hated me the most for doing, leaving them.”

“We’re not much of a talking type of family.” Arthur admitted.

“Dutch talked at people, not with them, and well you sure as hell ain’t the talking type.” John grinned. “I think I talk plenty for the both of us, most nights, especially when drunk, like now.” He not so stealthily stole the bottle from Arthur’s grip and took another big swig. 

“Did you mean what you said back there, about breaking me?”

So he understood that did he? “Arthur…” John felt his heart skip a beat or two, worried that his tactic might just backfire on him now. He didn’t know about the mysterious man whom he still planned on hunting down one day even if Arthur would be the first one to tell him his plans rarely turned out.

“I like the guidance, the… orders.” Arthur admitted after a long delay and heavy silence. “What you ask me to do it’s, it’s different than what Dutch did. What He asked me to do was, well it was easy in the end. I’m a killer John; that’s often what he needed. I see myself as a killer, but you want something else, and you see more in me than he ever did or maybe just more than he did in the end. I don’t, I don’t know really.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “I like it John, what you do…but it makes me feel…” Arthur tried to find the right word, but John already knew he wouldn’t find it. And it wasn’t necessary anyway. He understood it just as well as if it were said.

John licked his lips, twisted his body to kneel before Arthur and placed a hand on each of the man’s knees. “What I ask you to do or what I do to you?” Once again he searched for those eyes, those beautiful light gems that were too often hidden by a hat or the shadows of a strong tree or maybe just being overlooked by everyone around Arthur who managed to draw attention to themselves easily because the man himself seemed just as comfortable being left alone.

This time Arthur required less encouraging; oh John felt the reluctance but the eyes returned his gaze just the same. “With… with me. What you do with me.”

It was whispered like a question, like the man wasn’t entirely certain how to describe what he felt, and John loved it. Oh he didn’t want Arthur in a constant state of confusion, even if it might be easier to get his lover to do what he wanted that way. No, no what he liked about it more than anything else remained locked into the nature of his mentor, brother and lover, a man who might respond casually but often not speak openly about anything he wasn’t sure about, not like this anyway. “I want to do something… with you Arthur. I think you’ll feel a little embarrassed about it at first, but I promise you’ll be liking it soon enough.”

Wheels turned behind those light eyes; John could feel it, see it, and the way Arthur’s lips just sort of twitched, neither frowning nor smiling told him he tried to weigh his options. On the one hand, he trusted John; this remained the only explanation as to why Arthur let him go this far, let him inside him and certainly why he slept so peacefully at night in his house after years of guns, blood and ambushes. On the other hand, the older, broader and frankly more attractive man maintained that nervousness, that unsettle about the unknown held at bay by a hint of curiosity and a longing, a deep desire for what he’d been denied the years before. If a gambler walked up to camp right now, John would bet every last dollar he had and face Abigail’s wrath that he was right about this. But the letting go, extending the trust and hope that Dutch so soundly destroyed in the man, well there was just enough chips left on the table that John didn’t go too quickly and too fast else his new lover might shy away and not allow him to pursue this path ever again.

“What do you want me to do?” Arthur asked after some time.

John grinned, crawled partially up the man’s body so he could kiss him, real gentle like and whispered his request. “I want you to stand up and take all your clothes off Arthur.”

Doubt emerged immediately, and Arthur worried his bottom lip with his teeth, but of course the blonde cautiously moved back away from John so he could stand and start undressing. He folded each piece too, setting the coat down carefully, and his shirt on top of that, next came the pants and socks, all sensibly set down as not to touch the dirt. The boots he set next to the neat pile until the man stood before John in all his glory. He denied John the one thing he pushed for though, so before John continued he needed to fix that. “I’ve seen you naked for me before Arthur, when we slept together remember. Try to relax, just take a deep breath. I ain’t appraising you. Arthur, look at me.”

Arthur complied, in silence.

Okay, so he wasn’t appraising Arthur’s body, but he could still appreciate it right? The hard muscle, the scars, and now a few more bruises from when the Thoroughbred roughed him up good. One of those stretched across his back like maybe he’d hit the fence. Just like Arthur not to say a thing about that too, just kind of bite his pain rather than bother anyone about it. On one hand it made him mad, that the man continued to suffer in the dark like this, as if John wasn’t there to apply cool cloth, empathize with him, or just work sore muscles. On the other hand, he wasn’t out to completely change Arthur, more like rebuild the pieces that were left broken after their gang, their family was torn apart and maybe just rework, and only a little, a few of those pieces so the man might survive that spilt. It occurred to him, as he ran his fingers across broad shoulders, traveled down his spine and brushed over the darkening skin that maybe that mysterious trapper knew something the rest of them didn’t…until now, that Arthur couldn’t make that choice back then. Arthur would’ve destroyed or lost himself trying to piece together something too shattered to ever come together again. If John ever laid eyes on Dutch again, he’d kill him. If Arthur saw the man… J and D, Arthur said it himself, and he looked for John first, chose John over Dutch but after Arthur realized he and his family was okay there remained the risk of the man wanting to look for the other one, and Arthur removed that choice didn’t he?

“If you ain’t looking, why have me do it?” Arthur asked quietly.

“I’m looking, just not appraising, more like reacquainting. A few weeks is nothing to you, but I feel like my cock damn near fell off.”

“You’ve got Abigail.”

John walked around him, so he could gaze into the man’s eyes when he explained, which of course only made the older man that much more uneasy. “Different need, different want… still love.” He leaned forward as if to kiss Arthur, and the man’s lips even parted to accept that kiss except John dipped his head down to kiss along the stubbled jaw instead and suck lightly on his chin. Arthur grunted, his flesh hardening between them, pressing against the rough fabric of John’s pants. He dropped his hand to keep Arthur from stepping back. “Easy Old Boy.”

Arthur breathed in deeply, and out of the corner of his eye he saw the older man open and close his fists like he didn’t know what to do with his hands, so John grabbed a strong right hand and placed it on his hip. He felt the fingers curl there and the nervousness of his partner lifted slightly. Good. Once that was settled, John kissed his way down the length of Arthur’s jaw to dip down to his neck where he suckled, hard. The fingers at his hips tightened the longer he held on.

“John…”

Oh Arthur sounded a protest, but the hardening flesh between them left little doubt about his lust. His lover liked this well enough, so he continued, relinquishing the prized skin only when he felt good and sure the mark was made. “Just keep your collar up for a while.” He didn’t give Arthur time to reply; instead he moved down the man’s throat leaving a wet trail of kisses and a couple of nips on the way until he worked his way to a taunt nipple and ran his tongue around it. He glanced upward, not at all surprised to see Arthur had closed his eyes. He’d allow that, for now. This was new, and having the man bare ass naked while he was still fully clothed meant a heck of a lot when it came to hope and trust in John. He almost abandoned his plan just to show him how much that meant to him, but this felt important and despite the bulging flesh stuck behind suddenly too tight pants, John continued, shifting to the other side to apply the same treatment to the other nipple. By the time he rolled his tongue and encircled the entire nub, Arthur’s free hand moved to John’s hair and gripped firmly. John smirked against the light skin, gave the little exposed nipple a light bite, which caused Arthur to hiss lowly.

“Any man who says a woman can’t know a man’s body… hasn’t met the right woman.” John explained quietly, looking upward to see Arthur’s eyes squeezed tight, his mouth partially opened and an expression that bordered between pleasure and pain. “Are you ready Arthur?” John dropped lower, his face, his mouth near the throbbing, eager flesh Arthur really wanted to be touched, although that would be the minimal attention he received this evening.

Once those blue eyes revealed themselves, even through the small slits of his eyelids; John grinned even more. 

“John you, you shouldn’t.”

Instead of replying, still holding that gaze for as long as he could keep it, John freed one hand to wrap around Arthur’s eager cock, stroking it, turning his palm forward and back again to simulate enveloping the full length as best he could before opened his mouth, a fully exaggerated mouth gape too just to watch Arthur’s uncertainty play across his handsome face, before he wrapped his lips around the smooth already glistening tip and sucked. 

Fingers dug hard enough to press against John’s hip bone, tendons tightened along Arthur’s neck, and the man’s entire body became one massive contracted muscle as he did everything in his power not to cry out loud. John loved this. Maybe it was a little unfair, a lot one-sided, to want to see his beloved Arthur give up control to someone else, especially to him, but it felt like he’d accomplished something previous lovers, their father figures, Dutch and even Hosea, overlooked, how important affection and encouragement hell even pushing the man outside of what he already knew so well, killing, thieving and riding turned out to be. Their Arthur became more than just another member of the gang years ago, but somehow, maybe due to just plain selfishness, John didn’t fully realize that Arthur himself didn’t know that, maybe because so few told him so

This next part, well John didn’t think he was exactly as good as it as Abigail, but for Arthur he’d give it his all. He started a light thrum in the back of his throat, humming really but more vibration. Then he began to take Arthur into his mouth. He needed both hands for this fine specimen, so he wrapped strong hands, around the hefty flesh, pressing his thumbs upward and out along the head of the man’s cock while drawing it inch by inch into his mouth. The stretched skin and little rivulets of veins moved along the irregular surface of his tongue, no doubt responsible for the drawn out moan that escaped from the depths of the man standing above him. He felt fingers grip too tightly around his stringy hair. John took it because he could, because he wanted to and because he sucked the cock of one of the most notorious outlaws in the area and felt worthier for it. Down and down it went until Arthur likely felt that vibration which elicited a full body shudder of pleasure. Then he was bobbing up and down, using one hand to gripped Arthur’s hip again but using the other to encircle around as much of the base of the cock as he could, ensuring it always felt like he was engulfed.

“Jesus Marston.”

John would’ve told Arthur how much he loved hearing that, if he could’ve and reminded Arthur to let go too, not hold back even a single ounce. As it were, he just continued, enjoying the salty taste of pre-cum against his tongue, the scent of horse, and gun oil and sweat when his nose pressed against the light blonde hairs that gathered around the man’s privates. Before he knew it, Arthur came, the fluid spilling against his tongue and the back of this throat. He tried to hide his brief struggle with it because it’d been sometime since he downed another man’s seed. Fortunately he managed, but he kept just a little, just a taste of Arthur for the next part, just that extra push.

As soon as Arthur breathed again, full deep breaths and seemed steady on his feet, John pulled himself up the strong body, hooked his hand behind Arthur’s neck and kissed him. Just as John expected, as soon as Arthur tasted his cum on John’s tongue he pulled back sharply. “Shhh…” John encouraged as he used the strength of his arms to hold his lover in place. “It’s not so bad…” He whispered. “It’s okay.” Taming or breaking, he wasn’t sure what he was doing at this point, but he knew he needed Arthur to have these experiences. It remained in Arthur’s nature to reject unknown unless pulled into it, whether it be by coercion, compassion or just the curiosity that came with standing right in front of it. Arthur would accept if just given a chance.

Just as John expected, Arthur settled down after a moment, tilted his chin slightly and returned the kiss, moaning lowly, his tongue experimentally gliding along John’s. He even reached down towards John’s pants, but John quickly squirmed out of the way, pulling back so he could beam at his partner. 

“John, don’t you, I mean…” The blonde’s face was flushed, his hesitation slowly replaced by concern.

“Yeah, but not today. Tonight was yours, well mostly anyway. I got a little; I promise.” He grabbed Arthur’s hand and lifted the knuckles to his mouth, kissing each one gently. “I can wait; I will wait, for you.”

Arthur opened his mouth, as if to say something, but closed it again, his brow creasing in a frown.

“It’s okay Arthur.” John replied casually. “You don’t have to say anything Arthur and certainly aren’t required to say just the right thing, not with me. I’ll straighten up camp and join you in a bit and meet you inside.” Of course he didn’t really tell Arthur the reason they stopped; John wanted Arthur to focus on and therefore remember the touches, the kisses and just the feeling of being worthy of something like this more than the experience and pleasure of just sex itself. Maybe that was a dumb idea. Maybe John didn’t really know what he was doing, but he had to try. Arthur would allow him failure, like he always did before.

John acknowledged he kind of half-lied while Arthur gathered his clothes too. Yes, he did straighten up, but he also hurried down the stream to help relieve himself of some pent up need. Maybe Abigail taught him how to be a considerate lover, but he wasn’t a saint, and this was, well the heat left him wanting but nothing a little cold water couldn’t handle. He made it quick though so as not to leave his lover alone in his thoughts too long. 

By the time he wound up crawling into the tent, he found Arthur there lying down looking a little uncertain but definitely thinking, probably remembering… perfect. John crawled right up alongside the man and gave him a brief kiss, taking a moment to examine the red circle.

Arthur pursed his lips and became too attentive to John’s examination. “Damn it John. I don’t think a collar is going to hide that.”

“Mostly.” John grabbed a thin blanket and covered them with it. “You should’ve let us bring that blanket with you. It’s going to be cold.”

“It’ll get damaged and dirty with you bungling about.”

“Bungling is that a city word for jumping or something.”

“Clumsy Marston, drunk ass tripping and dropping shit.”

John snorted. “You’re still sore about that one time I broke your watch.”

“Just shut your damn eyes and go to sleep.” Arthur murmured.

John nodded and found a nice warm and comfortable spot against Arthur’s broad chest.

“And John.”

“Hmmm?”

“…” No words came, but Arthur held him tighter.

John closed his eyes and smiled; maybe he did know a thing or two about relationships after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little more dabbling with these two. I hope you enjoyed it.


	3. Chapter 3 – Day 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After another fine night together, the boy continue to town, except John maybe might have not been fully honest with Arthur, and Arthur knows he isn't telling everything to John either. It just might take a few unexpected scenarios to really get them talking... or maybe a dozen.

As soon as the sun peeked through the trees, highlighted the nearby stream and lit up their tent Arthur felt his body stir, drawn to the energy of the sun and the need, the ever driving need to get up and earn his keep, maintain his place in a gang that grew and grew until he felt as if he became barely more than a speck anymore in Dutch’s grand schemes, if he was considered at all.

“Not yet Arthur.”

“The sun’s up.” Arthur replied roughly without thought as the fogginess of sleep began to lift from his mind. He soon realized where he was and the person that kept him company, remembered it was John with his arms across his body, holding him tight, keeping him warm.

“So…” John replied sleepily, fingers curling against his chest.

“Men get up with the sun rise.” Arthur’s tone softened slightly although he doubted John heard the difference. He lifted a hand and ran his fingers through the dark hair. There wasn’t much any of them could do to get that stringy hair any amount of volume, but if John liked Abigail washing his hair enough to actually wait for it, maybe he wouldn’t mind if Arthur washed it too.

“You don’t get up with the sunrise back home.”

Arthur huffed and felt compelled to defend himself against that accusation because if Dutch had said it, it would just be a verbal slap against his willingness to give his all. “Well I can’t; I don’t see or feel the sun from the bed.”

“And did the world end because you slept in longer Arthur?”

Arthur scowled briefly. The insistent little shit was starting to remind him of teenage John with that kind of smart ass remark. He just sort of grumbled incoherently in response because a part of him knew John wasn’t anything like Dutch, not even as a boy.

“Hmmm?”

“You damn well know it did not!” And he barked at John, just like the younger man often claimed he did. It felt natural to respond that way, as well as stupid and despite trying to avoid it too. After last night, after the weeks of just treading carefully around in the house like he didn’t belong there, and John coming behind him, reminding him that he did with light touches, kisses even… Arthur still did it. He didn’t know why. Goddamn it he was bad with this whole relationship thing.

John lifted his head and gave Arthur a lazy smile like their little tiff didn’t mean a damn thing to him. “Just a little longer then. It’ll feel good to laze around.”

Arthur exhaled. He still had a job to do, and he felt certain he could still manage that, to do jobs, to get that money to town and then, well maybe he could make it up to John later. With making not much distance yesterday, it seemed odd John felt no hurry today to make up that lost time himself. Why did this suddenly feel like a set-up? “We have some distance to make; you said, three day trip.”

“More like 2, less than two if we pushed it.”

Suspicion began to build within Arthur. Had he been so excited to just go out and camp with John, be alone with him, that he didn’t even think twice about the man’s claim? “Why’d you say three then?”

“Cause I wanted six days alone with you and not be hurried about it neither.” John’s eyes opened a little wider and those dark globes focused better. He didn’t even look surprised to see Arthur’s steady glare just kind of amused. “What?”

“I suppose you have a good reason for lying to Abigail about that then?” Oddly enough, Arthur felt more defensive about John lying to his wife than to him.

“Yeah, she ain’t a stupid woman Arthur. We’ve been to that town before, and if she wanted to she could could’ve said, John, you better be back in four so help me… but she didn’t.”

Arthur sat-up, carefully, trying not to suddenly dislodge his lover too suddenly. “Why didn’t you just ask her if you could be gone for six days?”

“What’s the fun in doing that?” Arthur’s irritation hit a higher level, but when he was about to stand John pushed against his chest to try and stop him. “Okay. Okay. If I started with the truth with her, then I’d have to tell you, and it seems to me that you’d say no to hanging out for six days but maybe yes to going to town for three, there and back.”

A large hand covered Arthur’s face for a moment so he could settle his retort. He frowned and gave a brief nod because John was right. “Yeah, probably.”

“You’d think one was playing around and the other actual work.” John needlessly offered.

Leave it to John to keep trying to win an argument he’d already won. Sometimes Arthur didn’t know why that boy didn’t just stop to think before opening his mouth. “Is there actual tax money Marston or was that a lie too?”

“That’s real, and I have it and going to pay it too. And as you well know, it makes even an eager thief think twice he thinks he’s facing two armed men instead of one.” He kind of looked earnest with his claim now, almost pleading like.

Arthur snorted, but it was mostly in amusement and curiosity than full doubt. “You ain’t claiming you brought me along for protection.”

By this point John gave up trying to get more sleep and tried to rouse himself fully. “You know I feel safer around you. That’s no lie, and if we lost this money I don’t know what we’d do. I hear those government folk mean business with this kind of thing.”

“It ever bother you John, saying something like that knowing you and I would’ve considered you a score?” Did John just suggest he could lose everything without getting that paid, and if that was the case, how many lives did they ruin, did Arthur’s actions alone destroy by doing that very thing?

John stood and shook his head quickly. “No. The world was ready to kill me as a boy. I didn’t pick this path Arthur and neither did you. Civilization threw us in this direction, and we were just lucky Dutch found us when he did, at least for a while.” He offered Arthur a hand which he accepted. Once they were standing John’s voice hardened just a bit. “You want to know the truth of all this, just look at Kieran.”

“Kieran?” Arthur felt tension rise throughout his entire body. He told John his feelings about that boy in confidence, and if it was thrown in his face now he wasn’t sure what would happen between the two of them.

“Yeah. Just a kid that liked horses, oh not how you like horses, not going out and taming them, or studying them, really understanding how to use them and ride them hard. He just liked taking care of them, and what did life give him, sick parents and a lifestyle he just wasn’t cut out to have. He probably did everything right, just wanted a quiet life and what did he get, thrown in with the fucking O’Driscolls who treated him like trash, like Colm treated all his men, like they’re nothing, just targets. And you know what Arthur, Kieran was the kind of man who might have been just riding down the road to work one day and wound up shot. You showed him kindness, listened and talked to him when none of the rest of us cared. Maybe that doesn’t make him less dead, but it mattered to him, and it matters to me, and the fact that you’re here means there’s a much better chance I ain’t going to fuck up my attempt to do better.”

For a few moments, Arthur just sort of let all those words settle in his mind. That raw passion, that messing around and not thinking things through all the way gave John so much energy and strength in life. It also seemed to pour too many words out of his mouth which made it hard to really understand what he was getting at. It confused him sometimes, but right now, after last night, the nights before, and just more time being around the younger man without Dutch or anyone else pushing a plan or a scheme, Arthur began to wonder if he did really did understand his John better.

… his? When did he start thinking like that?

Arthur shook his head briefly, trying to gather it all together and really focus. John made it sound like Arthur’s ordinary presence settled him down some, and if that was true, maybe he could keep them all on the right path, as long as he could handle that temper and that fearless nature of his which he never did great at harnessing before actually. “We’ll get your tax money to that office. Any fool trying to rob us on the way better have friends to dig his grave. John you ain’t, you ain’t Kieran. You’re stronger than him, prone to foolishness but stronger, and God help me for saying it, smarter than him too.”

John grinned and gave a nod. “Yeah, well it looks like I won’t be sleeping in this morning, so smarts ain’t getting me very far today. Let’s get the coffee going, and eat some of those stupid carrots of yours.”

“If you hate them so bad Marston, you don’t have to eat it.”

Within a minute or two John exited the tent and relit the fire, the pot already resting near the heat. “We ain’t got much else. When we get to town we’ll have a nice meal, get a hotel room, and maybe get one of those baths you like.”

“Two men in a room…”

“I’ll tell them we’re poor ranchers, and we are. They won’t care much after that.” John glanced at him. “When we get back, I’ll round up the cattle we have, sell them before winter. I’d like to get you a mirror Arthur, for your room, and a shaving kit.”

Arthur took a seat near the fire, watching the flame grow little by little. It might be a good thing John thought about this stuff at all and could see things to the end of it. He still couldn’t. He’d been real good at planning train robberies, stagecoach hold-ups and even finding shady store owners to heist. Hell he mastered taking stupid ass plans from the other members of the gang and making them into workable jobs they could actually walk away from, with money. This felt strange, and he remained painfully aware how easy it was for John to say we, to include him in everything as if he had anything do with the ranch already running before he got there. “If folks saw me standing by a dead body, they saw a killer, even if I killed the man who actually murdered those folks. If I was walking down the street minding my own affairs… a killer. Even Hosea was saying it, we’d become a bunch of killers, and you want me to look in a mirror and see something else. I get that you already see that John, but for me to see that… I just don’t know.” 

John lifted his head and peered at his lover, no doubt hearing and seeing Arthur’s bitterness, even though Arthur tried to bury it. “I want you to look in the mirror because there is something else Arthur.” He paused. “You saved me in Valentine, after all that lecturing, after me saying how much of a life you didn’t have that you were so busying yourself with mine. And when it came down to it, you shot that man holding knife against me, me first. That’s really something, and it ain’t just being a killer. You could have shot the man holding Leopold first, or listened to whatever Dutch was saying, but you shot mine. With the train, the sheep… Arthur every time we tried to do something in the way you wanted it no one was meant to get hurt, no one would’ve got hurt if it weren’t for the rest of us. It was Dutch’s ideas, his demands that got you shooting up towns, killing good folks.”

“Marston, you don’t go around carrying as many guns and ammo as I do, used to, because you’re expecting not to shoot something or someone.”

A light snort escaped John’s nose. “Give those guns to Bill, give em to Sean… give em to Micah and tell me you’re not going to shoot less people.”

“Good men don’t shoot people.” Arthur replied after a pause. This conversation suddenly felt familiar.

“Yeah, and good men tend to get shot. Good kids wind up stealing and… and they get hung trying to survive.”

Arthur responded almost immediately, and any uncertainty about his own character disappeared when he realized John spoke about himself. He walked over to John and leaned real close to him, placing a hand on the young man’s shoulder. “That wasn’t right. You know that. There were no good men there watching a young boy about to die, whether they had bounties on their heads or not. I don’t give a shit if those people called themselves homesteaders or no good varmint. Dutch wasn’t wrong about everything. John you were just a kid, you might’ve been twelve, but when they brought you home you didn’t’ look past nine or ten. You did what you knew how to do to survive with no one looking out for you that should’ve been. It ain’t your fault. You hear me? You did what you had to do.”

Dark eyes lifted to meet his gaze, and a smile emerged. “And I can say the same thing about you.”

That little bastard, Arthur thought instantly, walking him into a trap like that. He had a lot of profanities on his tongue, but right now he only managed to shake his head. Hosea would’ve been proud of that kind of set-up, real proud. “Well we’re here now, all out of biscuits and about to drink your shit coffee.”

John’s smile widened. He looked so please with himself Arthur just knew he was in for more traps just like this one. “So sounds like I’ll be able to order a mirror in town as well as that shaving kit. I’m also thinking about some candy. Kids like candy right? They always like candy?”

“Well you did…” Let it go Morgan, Arthur reasoned with himself. He’s giving you an out not to look too damn foolish, and if he kept on protesting that mirror that’s exactly where’d they wind up again, him looking pretty stupid. “Are you not sure what Jack likes John?”

“I kind of know, kind of don’t. I mean he just likes… things. I just don’t always know what he likes because he doesn’t always say.” John frowned briefly. “Abigail still says I don’t do enough with him. I’m doing the best I can, honest. I just, I mean it feels like I’m doing more.”

“Kids don’t always say. He definitely doesn’t like fishing.” John offered Arthur a cup of coffee, and he accepted. It was pretty bad, gritty even. Coffee had a habit of failing somehow under John’s attention, but at least it was warm and gave him a moment to think. “Let’s get him candy for now, maybe see about a sled or something for the winter. When you were about his age, you saw one once… I think. We can see one of them catalogues, see how much it is. If the horse brings us enough, we can get that for him for later, something do in the winter. You were something awful being stuck at camp in the winter all the time when young.” Arthur found it kind of easy to talk about things he knew about, like what a pain-in-the-ass the man had been while a boy. “John.” He poured out the rest of his coffee once he felt warm again. “I didn’t take Jack fishing just to mess with yah, and I didn’t go over your head and invite Sean on that train robbery either. Abigail asked me to take Jack fishing, and Sean just sort of… well he was already there when I arrived at the wagon.”

John stood after gulping down all his coffee. “Why didn’t you set me right about those things Arthur?”

“I figured it’d be easier to have you mad at me instead of all of them. It just worked out better that way I guess. You gotta remember Abigail doesn’t have much to go on either. She’s just worried for your son John. Give her some chances to do it wrong too, take her yelling. I know you can. You take my barking well enough.”

John shook his head as he began to clean up camp. “You took a lot on for a lot of us, most the time with us not knowing. Just something else I learned from you.”

For a moment, Arthur toyed with the idea of kissing John in his head. It felt, well it wasn’t as easy to just go with what felt right as it should’ve been. He gave in though and approached the young man, touching his shoulder and when John looked up at him Arthur just leaned forward, their lips met and it felt warm and good and well he didn’t know why he second guessed himself about that. “I told you I was the golden boy once, and then, then the errand boy and in the end not much value at all; I guess. Changing of the guard, as Sean called it.”

John grinned his eyes bright in response to the open affection. “Man that Sean couldn’t shoot for shit.”

“Yeah, yeah he sure couldn’t, not the broadside of the barn if his life depended on it.”

The brunette chuckled, gave Arthur another quick kiss and kept cleaning up. “Well with the rest of us around, it often didn’t. He sure could get on Charles’ nerves though. Never knew when to shut-up.”

Arthur gave a nod as he took down the tents, and gathered their things. He’d eat a couple of carrots, but he’d save a few for John when he started whining about being hungry. It didn’t make sense to linger along the way, and if he was going to hunt for something, it’d be when they were ready to camp again. At some point he realized John became awfully quiet, so after tightening his saddle on the Morgan he turned to the brunette to find him watching him steadily, eyes firm and unwavering, like he was waiting for something. “What now Marston?”

“I’m deciding.”

“Deciding on what?” Why couldn’t he just come out at say it? Sometimes John’s habits just really, well they grated on him.

“How much you remember from last night.”

“I didn’t pass out John, if that’s what you mean. I remember what we did, and how I’ve become your latest bedroll too.” Arthur liked that last part. Maybe he’d never admit it, except under force, but the fact John got real close to him, laid his head down and rested so deeply, like he really did think Arthur remained a fierce threat to anyone that came around, it made him feel real good. He just, well he wished they could do that at home too. Tell him, his inner voice whispered. Say something about last night. Admit how it made you feel, ask him to come to your bed sometime. Of course Arthur said none of it.

John briefly gave his saddle some attention, but the dark eyes were soon on Arthur again. “What about what I said… what you said?”

Oh that; John wanted to know about the man in the south, that one that took advantage of him. Arthur drew in a deep breath. Yeah, he was drunk last night and kind of wished he hadn’t been so free with his tongue. It wasn’t a good habit to get into, not even with John. That wasn’t the worse thing he’d done if maybe one of the most senseless moments. Any inkling he had of trying to say or even show appreciation for last night faded and was replaced by a strong desire to focus on something else, like riding. “What’s done is done. Let’s not talk about it.”

“Arthur…”

“Let’s not talk about it right now.” He’d have to give John something, even an empty promise, or there wouldn’t be an end to it this entire trip. “Save it for c… home.” He felt himself slipping again, trying to fall back on old habits, old thoughts and the unfulfilling purposes that went with it. Arthur knew he should apologize and try again, but he just did what he did best, kept up steady appearances. 

John gave a brief if partial smile. Whether it was because he agreed they could talk about it later or because he finally used the right word to discuss his current living arrangement, the wanted outcome remained the same even if Arthur felt his slip was more a failure than a success. They both climbed their horses and headed down the trail again.

Probably realizing that Arthur wasn’t mad at him anymore, John actually let them go a few solid hours in silence, and it helped. A quiet and peaceful ride avoided awkward questions, prevented Arthur from trying to cover how he felt with not quite lies and poor excuses. It relaxed him, a lot. Nature, riding, hunting and even fishing helped him settle, and once settled, Arthur felt more at ease and, more importantly, capable of dealing with social situations like this. He wished he’d known it was possible to lead to John to silence for some time. If he had Arthur might have taken John with him to some really beautiful locations he found during his trips trying to get supplies and money for camp. Gorgeous mountains, quiet waterfalls and see things like that one time he watched a grizzly not far at all pull a fish from a lake. And then there was that time in the middle of the snow when he went to an overlook and just saw the whole world in white, just silent and under the starlight, white as far as the eye could see. John should see things like that, see the world. Maybe one day they could, and he could tell him stories too, mostly the good ones.

The trees around them now became tall and old, but Arthur wondered how long they’d last once this town they were going to got bigger and more folks moved into the area. And then, John was talking again.

“So I hear the saloon sometimes has lamb stew, real flavorful like, with chunks of fat right on the meat, real quality stuff. They don’t water the whiskey down either. I was assured of that, real good place.”

“If you’re hungry, I still have a few carrots.” Arthur smirked knowing the younger man tended to ramble a bit about food when hungry. Strange though that John might not know about what the saloon might serve, although if they went as a family they probably wouldn’t visit a saloon would they?

“Fine give them here.”

He reached into his well-worn but still sturdy satchel when he heard something, a quick rustling of leaves and brush to their right. Arthur’s eyes darted in that direction just as the horses start stomping nervously, and had to pull the reins to settle his down some. 

“Arthur.” 

Arthur withdrew one pistol so he could still guide the horse; he wished he’d had more guns, but they hadn’t been able to buy a lot just yet. “Quiet down John. We’re being…”

And then the howls came.

“Run em!”

He waited for John to dig his heels into his mount and quickly travel down the trail. Arthur followed swiftly behind him, but he struggled some more with the animal. They were just not used to predators. 

The first one nipped as his heels, a big grey one almost close enough to jump him. Arthur had to shoot it twice to bring it down. But there were more, maybe four. Another big one leapt at him. The old Arthur with great lungs, a tried and true horse and a body that always obeyed him might have managed to stay on, but the horse reared and then bolted; he went down, hard.

Arthur felt pressure behind his eyes and a ringing in his ears. With the wind knocked out of him, pain against his ribs and a threat of unconsciousness, it would’ve been easy to give into the darkness trying to surround him except he heard the wolves growling and where was John? He railed against physical limitations and forced his eyes open, pushed himself up to his knees and stumbled forward. What felt like minutes really only occurred within a matter of seconds; Arthur Morgan fell off his horse, paused a moment and then moved lowly to the ground, stumbling slightly towards John and the wolves threatening to tear his pain in the ass lover apart. He could see John’s gun, it must’ve been knocked away from him when he fell, the metal gleaming with the hint of sunlight between the shades of the trees. The wolves, three of them, massive beats approached John like a single arrow, but they were cautious. The young man had his legs behind him, partially belly down on the ground, and his eyes darted between his gun and the animals. He’d go for it, Arthur realized, and as soon as he moved, they’d rush him.

“John.”

John’s eyes remained focused on the gun.

“Marston.” Arthur tried again, and this time John acknowledged him. He didn’t turn or look at him, but the darks of his eyes darted in his direction. “Don’t move.”

“I can get it.”

“I said don’t move.”

“Arthur, they’re going to…”

Fear. He almost felt it as well as heard it in the other man’s voice, almost terror like levels of fear. It hurt, seeing that kind of response from John, normally so cocky, unafraid and certainly not deterred by danger. But the impulse, the other inclination the dark-haired outlaw used to challenge life would lead to his death here. “Trust me.” As Arthur neared John, he wanted to touch the younger man, let him know he was there because the wildness in his eyes, the wide whites highly focused on the wolves might not be as aware as he should be. The way John stiffened at the words though, and how he stilled now instead of slightly rocking towards the gun told Arthur John’s trust in him, warranted or otherwise, at least remained steadfast.

At this point Arthur turned his attention back to the wolves. Maybe he should’ve come up with a better plan than to tell John not to move and work his way in-front of him, but here he was, almost able to create a wall between the wolves and John when he felt it. It was that strange sensation he had up in the mountains, like the air became too still. He heard his breath as it entered and exited his lungs, as steady and audible as a timepiece. Everything around him took on a grey shade, like someone stripped the area of color and sort of penciled it in, like his drawings except one wolf, not the one in front and not the biggest, no, it was the other one with a little brown under its chin. His eyes naturally focused on that animal, and they locked gazes. He’s mine, Arthur thought. They tried taking John from him before, failed then too; he wasn’t about to let them at him again. Even if he could get a shot off as the first one pounced, the others would likely get to him. Arthur prepared himself to take on the attacks when suddenly everything returned to as it should be, the color, the natural feeling of the air and the realization that John was talking to him. 

“Arthur, no.”

The one wolf, the one he focused on lifted its head, paused for a moment, seemed to study him and then turned, leaving. The larger and more aggressive ones upfront stopped snarling, seemed hesitant at first but followed. Within a minute or so, they were out of sight. 

Arthur walked over to John’s gun, picked it up and returned to stand over the young man who stared at the ground, not willing to look at him which seemed odd for John. He didn’t say anything to his companion because he wasn’t really sure what to say. Anything seemed inadequate even if nothing might come off as cruel, so he held out John’s gun to him. 

John stood slowly, wiping dirt off his coat and pants, but he ignored the gun, walked right past the outstretched arm and enveloped Arthur’s large form initiating a tight hug; John trembled.

Carefully Arthur slipped John’s gun into the other’s holster and wrapped his arms around his younger lover. “It’s alright. It’s alright now.”

Dark hair swished back and forth when John voiced his objection. “I thought…”

“I know.” Arthur wouldn’t make him say it, and he lifted a hand to stroke his hair. “They’re gone now. It’s alright. I gotcha.”

They stayed together on the side of the trail for a little while until John stepped back, wiped his eyes with his sleeve and went to retrieve his hat. 

“John…”

John placed the black hat on his head and straightened it a little. “We lost the horses.”

“They might come back.” Arthur approached him and lifted a hand to John’s only slightly damp face. “You don’t need to hide that from me. I ain’t Dutch. There’s nothing lesser about you for it.”

John glanced at him and gave a brief smirk. “No, no you ain’t. He would’ve told me to get my stupid hat, and then just started walking I gather, expecting me to follow. He wouldn’t do what… you just did.”

Arthur brushed the back of his fingers along John’s face and leaned forward planting a light kiss against John’s forehead, nose and then lips where he lingered just a little longer, just a warm kiss really, nothing passionate so much as an extension of comfort. “Probably not this either?” He rose his brow like it was question despite knowing the answer of course.

It worked. John laughed. “Well of course not that. Come on. I want to clear this part of the woods before the sun comes down.”

After some time of just walking, Arthur coughed briefly but felt instant relief that it didn’t take over his entire form. He knew he needed to slow down when his breathing became a bit labored, but of course he forced himself to keep up with John. “So the money wasn’t on the horse right?”

“Of course not Arthur. I’m not that big of an idiot. I used to steal from saddlebags remember? No it’s on me. What happened back there?”

“Don’t know.” He replied honestly. 

“You stared him down. I’ve never seen that before.”

“Might be a her…”

John stopped abruptly and just stared at him. “How could you know that?”

Arthur grabbed his arm and tried to keep him moving as they talked. He didn’t know what happened back there, and he didn’t want a repeat, this time without horses and no chance to even try and out run them. “We don’t have time for standing and talking. If you can talk and walk, fine, if not, walk.”

“Goddamn it Arthur. Something happened back there.” John didn’t pull away, but of course his nature didn’t let things just be.

“Yeah, we got attacked by wolves and lost our horses.”

“You know what I mean.” John insisted.

Arthur shook his head. “You’re asking questions I can’t answer. I told her to back off, and she did.”

“You didn’t say a word. You didn’t say anything at all. I was there.” John kept walking at least this time, but he still looked nervous and too damn curious. 

For the nervousness Arthur placed a hand against the small of his back. He stopped suddenly when he saw a trickle of blood run down John’s finger. “John, what happened to your arm?”

John glanced down, lifted his arm with a slight wince and looked at the small amount of blood. “That’s nothing Arthur, when I fell maybe.”

Arthur sighed in obvious annoyance to hide his worry. “Take your coat off, let’s have a look.”

John rolled his eyes, but he knew better than to resist Arthur over something so trivial. He held his jacket while Arthur rolled up his sleeve and examined the two long cut’s down his arm. 

“One of them knocked you off?” Arthur asked. He glanced up at John. “When you turned back for me?”

The brunette pulled his arm back. “Don’t you go giving me tongue for that? You were thrown from your horse Arthur. Whatcha think I was going to do, just keep going?”

“I wish you had. We’d have at least one horse if you did.” That wasn’t fair, and Arthur knew it too.

“Fuck you Morgan.” John hissed. “You asked me to leave you behind once; I’m not doing it ever again.”

Arthur gave a brief nod, grabbed John’s arm and removed his bandana to make a loose bandage around John’s arm. “We’ll rinse and do more when we make camp.” He returned to walking. It’d be easier than having that conversation.

It took a moment for John to start following. “You’re breathing too hard. Slow down.”

“I can manage.”

“No you can’t.”

Arthur turned and glowered at him. “I might just have to remind you a thing or two about giving me orders Marston. You wanna do that here and now?” He kept reminding John to think before he spoke, and here he was offering the boy a challenge he almost knew John would be too tempted to resist. Marston was never one to defuse a fight, and even if it might be time to settle a thing or two about how they functioned as a… couple, this wasn’t exactly how Arthur intended that to turn out.

John marched right up to him, pushed a finger firmly against Arthur’s broad chest and locked eyes with him. “That’s Dutch talking, not you. There doesn’t have to be a leader Arthur. We’re not a gang; we’re family, a real family this time. I’m telling you to slow down before you push yourself too far. We’re not desperate, not yet. I’ll let you know when we are in dire enough straights, so you can self-sacrifice again.”

“That, that wasn’t your fault John.” Arthur softened his voice, recognizing pain and guilt when he saw it.

His companion shook his head and started walking off again. “I left you up there to die Arthur, to die alone. Don’t tell me that wasn’t my fault. And then you came to my home, half-starved, nearly dead, and you’re telling me you’re sick and then you’re not that sick anymore. I left you to die Arthur.”

Arthur jogged forward briefly until he caught up, matching John’s angry but slower stride. “You left me so you could live John, so your family would be okay and because I asked you to.”

“I should’ve said no Arthur.”

“I was supposed to die up there.”

“You don’t know that.”

Arthur gently grabbed John’s wrist and turned John to face him. “I ain’t been right about a whole lot of things in life John, but I was right about that. It hurt to breathe. It hurt to walk. I, I was falling apart. You know that John. John look at me, please.” They might not have been in desperate straits just yet, but he felt distressed enough right now to make sure John understood this. “John, I was already dying. I probably wouldn’t have made it more than a few more months anyway.”

Dark eyes met his, and John’s voice became so soft it was barely a whisper. “But you’re okay now…”

A light chuckle sounded before he could help himself. “Well I was until I got thrown off a horse and lost in the forest with you.”

John reluctantly smiled. “Well I guess things could be worse.”

“Yeah, like the company ain’t so bad.”

“We’re not lost you know.” John mumbled.

They started walking again. 

After a while, John broke the silence because of course he did. “So you really think they’ll come back?”

“Sometimes they do.” Arthur confirmed. 

“I think yours liked you a lot better than mine liked me?”

Arthur glanced at him. “Old Boy liked you a good deal. He always looked at you when you walked by, lifted his nose for a good rub, and was eager to go with you even when you were just on watch.”

“You really think so?”

“It’s like you said John, every relationship is different. That don’t mean it’s not worth something.”

John glanced at him. “I never said that.”

“More or less you did; with you, it’s always more, a lot more.”

They smiled at each other. 

A few hours later, when the sun started to dip, they both saw smoking climbing into the sky. Even though their eyes met, neither needed to say a thing to each other to decide the same thing; it was worth the risk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I intended to make this a 6 day and 6 chapter piece but... I might have to stretch it out and do twelve because I sort of set a pattern that I kind of like. I know it's a little.. maybe a lot, erotic heavy but hopefully it feels like the scenes still have meaning, and I am not promising every day has some steam to it... it still might happen but no promises.
> 
> Once again, sorry for editing mistakes.


	4. Chapter 4 – Evening 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur is expecting to ask for a little kindness from a fella at a nearby camp. What he gets is quite a bit more than that.

“Okay. Here’s the plan. I’ll approach the guy, ask if he’s willing to share his camp.”

John snorted. “That ain’t a fucking plan. That’s you setting yourself up as a target in case the man turns out hostile. No.”

They crouched behind a thick tree where some buck, or a few, scraped thick chunks of the protective layer off during their molting season. Arthur placed a hand against the coarse surface and frowned. In front of them was a man sitting at a campfire, a single tent behind him, an older but capable looking Red Roan Tennessee Walker not far away and a large rifle near the man’s feet. Arthur suspected the man had pistols too, didn’t everyone? He knew John wasn’t about to agree to anything where he saw Arthur take all the risk, so the important part became how to word this just right. “You’re the better shot remember, good eyesight, real fast trigger. If you see the man make a move, even with a pistol from here, you can stop him right?”

The brunette visually hesitated. “If the view is no good...”

“I know where you’re at. I’ll talk to him, keep him visual for yah. John, when you get nervous, you get mouthy and rude and too quick with the draw. Let me do the talking. I’ll let him know you’re here, don’t want to surprise him, but I won’t tell him where you’re at. We just want to share the fire, that’s all.”

John still didn’t like it. Arthur felt it readily enough, but at least he listened. “And if he says no you walk away.”

“If he says no, I will ask him again.” Arthur corrected.

“I don’t like this plan.”

Arthur placed a hand on John’s shoulder. “It’s okay. I’ve shared camps with a lot of people. Some folks are just friendly and others not so much. If he doesn’t warn me off right away, probably fine.” Since he didn’t want to argue about this until they were forced to just push through the trees in complete darkness, Arthur peeled away from the cover of the trees and began to approach; he’d endure John’s wrath later.

“Hey Mister.” Arthur called out as he neared the fire’s glowing radius. “My friend and I were hoping you might not mind a little company tonight?”

Not only did the man not reach for his gun or his holster, the bearded man, dressed in some older furs and leathers turned towards him, and the almost grey eyes shone on that weathered face like two bright stars right at him. “You should sit down Arthur.”

Arthur froze. “How do you know my name?”

The man ignored his question and motioned to a spot near him. “Don’t worry about John, or anyone else for that matter. From your understanding everything is stopped for a moment. No one will bother us; no one can bother us.”

Arthur glanced around, fighting every urge in his bones not to actually look in John’s direction. It seemed unnecessary anyway because outside of the light of the fire, the world looked unnatural again, grey but the air, the warmth, everything near him felt and looked fine. “It’s you.”

“Oh I don’t expect you to actually remember me. You were in a pretty bad way when I saw you on that mountain, taking your last breaths.” The man motioned to a spot near him again. “You won’t get any answer standing above me like that. I suggest you sit down.”

Hesitantly Arthur obeyed, wanting, fearing they’d entered some sort of trap, and John was out there in the dark, alone. 

“It’s all right. He’s fine.”

“You read minds?” Arthur demanded, using a harsher tone than he intended.

“Not exactly, although it would make things a lot easier if I did. I understand emotions quite well.”

“Things?” Arthur kept his hand near his gun although he wasn’t entirely sure a bullet would do them any good against whatever this man was.

“My purpose is far too complicated for a man like you to understand. For our sake, let’s just say I bring with me opportunities for individuals like yourself.”

“Me?” Arthur didn’t even try to hide his surprise.

“I like to give people choices, chances some call it, to travel the same path again or take a different route.”

Arthur frowned. “That’s why you marked them on the map, to see what choice I’d make.”

“Arthur, I didn’t mark anything on that map. They were your heart’s desires, not mine. I simply guided you to where they were. I truly thought you might choose someone else. That was my best hope for you, but I’ve been wrong before. Sometimes even in that situation some of you choose well.”

“Most men choose wrong?”

“Most men are creatures of habit. You’re a killer Arthur, a capable one at that. The list under your belt is quiet long, very long. And if I am not mistaken, there are two new men on that last list since your return.”

“Now that ain’t fair.” Arthur defended. “They were going to kill us, me and John.”

“Yes very likely, yes.” The man nodded as if he agreed, but Arthur still felt uneasy about this entire situation; had he ruined everything already? “And many more had you not killed them actually, many more.”

“Are you saying I should’ve killed them?”

“I can’t tell you your future only give you a chance at a different one.”

Arthur stood. He’d had enough of this mystery stuff and felt walking away was the best plan now. “I ain’t playing this game. I didn’t ask for it. We’ll find another camp.”

“No. No you didn’t.” The man agreed with a matter-of-fact tone. “If they had killed you and John, you would still have earned more time yourself and cut John’s life by a few of years… but not decades.”

Arthur turned to face him. “That ain’t right. John’s still young, plenty of years left.”

“A quicker, easier death too, not the dozens of bullets he’d face years from now.”

A scowl quickly spread across Arthur’s face. “Someone murders him?”

“Several although it’s more of an idea that they’re murdering that happens to live in a body than the man himself.”

“He’s got a name. He’s a father and a husband.” Arthur objected. “You can’t dismiss him that easily.”

“Should we review the names on your list that had families, wives, husbands… children?”

“I ain’t a good man. I never said I was. If you’re expecting me to turn law or something then you set up an unfair fight just to watch me lose it.”

“No, no of course not. You are not a good man Arthur, but that final act, your final sacrifice... that was worth noticing. That was worth looking at.” The man stood suddenly and for a moment Arthur just pictured John firing at him, trying to kill a demon, so he shifted slightly into John’s view, breaking his assurance uttered earlier.

“What do you want from me? If you sent those wolves to kill me, why even bother with all of this?”

“Those aren’t the questions you want to ask.” He admonished this time, and his voice almost sounded like Hosea, like the quiet patience of a man being pressed when he faced a willful child being dishonest with him. “They were and are not my wolves. Your connection with nature and the power that pulled the illness from your lungs has given you a unique link. That is intriguing. Now ask me what you really want to know.”

“Can he be saved?”

“You can’t save him.”

Arthur felt a lump lodge in his throat.

“He can only save himself.” The man continued. “And your presence may help with that. Do not tell him Arthur, about his future. My experience says men create their fate often when they know what it is.”

“Thank you.” It’s the only thing he can think of saying. It’s not enough; Arthur knows that. This man, or whatever he is, saved him, returned him to John and now, now there was a chance to keep John from returning to the life. Why did all of this just make him feel… tired?

“Your horses will return to you in the morning. There is no need for you to go. You may rest here.” The man stood and approached him. “The wolves will not hurt you, or what they believe is yours so long as you show them you have strength in you to fight for what is yours. That, that you earned with little help from me.” He turned towards John’s direction. 

Arthur blinked, and he was gone. 

The world seemed normal after a minute or two, and just as Arthur expected, John came running away from his hiding place, gun drawn and eyes darting every which way. “Where’d he go? I had my eyes on him the entire time. Arthur, what the hell happened?”

“Put your gun away Marston. He left. We can have the camp, come, and get warm with me, rest.” Arthur took a seat at the fire. His lungs hurt but nothing like before, just a strain probably from walking too fast earlier. “Sit down, and I will tell you why that man ain’t a man.”

Reluctantly John took a seat near the fire and holstered his gun. “This don’t make any sense Arthur.”

“Remember when I told you a man, a trapper or something saved me on the mountain?”

“Yeah.”

“That was him, again. He had something to tell me I guess.”

John gave him a look, one that expressed extreme doubt and also lingering defiance. “A magic man set-up camp right where we’d be walking to tell you something?”

Arthur sighed heavily. He didn’t want to talk about this, but John wasn’t about to let something just drop. Charles probably would though, believed in spirits and spiritual beings too. Arthur missed him, and would’ve liked to ask him about something like this. Hosea might’ve had a thing or two to say too. “You know I was sick, real sick.”

“Yeah.”

“And now I’m just not, just weaker, can’t do as much.”

“You can still do a lot.” John insisted. 

“I know I know.” Arthur looked at his companion. “But you know I was real sick, dying John.”

John nodded, glancing away. His lover, looking away, not making contact. The guilt, the sorrow, oh that was still eating John up inside wasn’t it? That yanked at Arthur’s heart a lot more than the illness ever did.

“I know it sounds crazy, but it is what I said.”

“What he need to tell you?”

Arthur raised his palms to the fire. “That I shouldn’t return to the old life, push myself too hard.” It wasn’t like John not to ask questions; he’d keep going and never stop if someone didn’t try and tamper that habit down, or at the very least he’d make a fuss until he got something that satisfied him, so when the silence lingered Arthur looked to his companion to see the younger man staring at him. “What?”

“It’s not very often you lie to me Arthur. I just can’t figure out what’s the lie, this magic man or what he told you.”

“What I ain’t lying about is this, I want to be with you John, help you run this ranch, be a member of the family. I was given another chance, and I just… I think he thought I’d choose Mary.”

“You didn’t say she was on the map.”

“She wasn’t. She wasn’t on the map, and to be honest, when I made my chose I didn’t think it was that odd at the time.”

“And now?”

“It was a hard decision between you and Dutch. I made the right one. If she’d been a choice, I’d still make the same one.”

John smiled. Oh Arthur knew his brother wouldn’t be so quick to dismiss his suspicions. Hot headed, foolish, sometimes outright stubborn, but he knew Arthur enough to see right through his attempts, most the time. He figured this truth though, and John’s happiness on hearing it, well some peace might come for a little while at least.

“So since this man is magic…”

“Spiritual probably, maybe I don’t rightly know.”

“Okay spiritual, and he delivered his message, so we can just rest without getting stabbed in the back?’

Arthur nodded and moved to the tent for emphasis. The day drained him. Less than half a day’s brisk walk, and he felt exhausted to the point of being frustrated and feeling worthless right up until John joined him and snuggled real close for warmth. He wrapped his arms around the other man and pressed his lips against John’s forehead. “I still have some carrots.”

“Fuck your carrots.” John snarled playfully. “We’re eating in town tomorrow, and I had plenty of burned fish and soggy biscuits last night. We’ve been without before.”

Yeah, yeah they’d been without before. It felt like a longtime ago too because John seemed kind of capable at providing in his own way; a chance neither he nor Dutch really gave him enough time to prove to them before. If they had to do a lot of mundane, some good and a little bad to keep that going, well Arthur figured it was his job to try and keep John doing all that. If there was one thing he still knew how to do, it was completing a job.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heh, i think I am back to 6 chapters. I've got a plan... I hope it's still enjoyable so far because Chapter 6 is, well I'm like that one a lot more than I expected. I hope when we get there it will feel worth the ride.


	5. Chapter 5 – Day 3 / Early Evening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur reveals just a little more about himself, and John has a surprise to reveal. As expected, neither is something Arthur handles well, at least not at first

Just like the man said, by the time Arthur and John awoke with the sun, both the animals they lost on the road grazed nearby, their saddles still strapped to their backs. While John went to tend to the fire for a moment and just wake up, Arthur immediately approached their mounts. The poor things had a good fright yesterday, and having to sleep with that saddle on left them nigh uncomfortable no doubt. He spoke to each of them softly, stroking their long faces, even took the last of their carrots to give them a little treat for returning. Spirits or no spirits, he appreciated their presence which meant a whole lot less walking for them. A weak and hungry man still managed to cover a good distance if his mount remained healthy and reliable.

He glanced over his shoulder at John, his emotions unsettling his stomach. It wasn’t fair to blame John for something that hadn’t and may not happen yet. If he went around dismissing every man with a gun who wound up using or dying by one too without ever knowing why, well Arthur would belong in hell which he was certain this was not, at least not yet. A part of him held onto to those small comments John made earlier too, about Arthur being here settling him, keeping him focused and doing the right thing. If he wasn’t here right now, not buried or just left to rot on the mountain where would John be this moment and what would he be doing? Taking care of his family, but would he wind up out there killing too?

“You keep looking at me.”

Arthur returned his attention to straightening one of the horse’s blankets and running his hand over his body and legs looking for any signs of damage and wolves. “Hmmm?”

“Don’t play stupid with me Arthur. I know better than anyone how not stupid you are.” John carefully dropped dirt on the fire and took the tent down. “Should we leave this here for your mystery man?”

“Yeah. We shouldn’t take what isn’t ours.” It felt strange saying that out loud, kind of like the lie John sort of accused him of last night. He wasn’t a good man. He lied, stole and murdered but not really eager to lie to John, at least not like this. 

Naturally John laughed it off and set the tent carefully next to the doused fire. “I figure we’d be in a pretty desperate situation to go off and steal a man’s tent like that.”

“This shit doesn’t bother you Marston, does it?”

John shrugged and started following Arthur’s inspection technique with the other horse. “Is it going to improve if I let it?”

Arthur huffed briefly. John wasn’t dumb about everything it seemed. 

Of course the younger man kept talking. “I don’t know about spirits or much about hell, nothing about heaven or why you can like command wolves now, but I do know you haven’t ever steered me wrong Arthur Morgan.”

He turned to look at John’s poor attempt at trying to check for rocks under the saddle blanket, just in case the horse tried to roll or otherwise wasn’t upright for a time. Arthur quietly approached him, took John’s hand and showed him how to work his fingers up there just right and brush along the coat feeling for anything that shouldn’t be there. “Trying to get you to be more like me wasn’t the best idea.”

John gave him a sly smile. “Whether you tried or not, I was going to do my best. Arthur, you’re not the reason I became a gunslinger. You just chanced to be there when it happened, and I figured if Hosea and Dutch didn’t already have you when they came across me, they wouldn’t have taken me in like they did. You think I was better off dying like that, on a rope as a boy, just knowing pain and hunger and little else?”

Arthur shook his head.

The brunette placed a hand against his shoulder, leaned forward, and kissed his cheek. “Let’s get to town before those carrots start sounding good.”

“Sound is about all you get. I gave them to the horses.” Arthur teased. It was true enough, but he figured he might find some berries or something if John got desperate enough which of course he wouldn’t because the younger man was right, they’d gone without before, for days.

Once Arthur mounted his Morgan he noticed John sat up there and shook his head with a silly grin on his face. “What?”

“Leave it to you to think about horses you don’t really like over us.”

He clicked his tongue to get the animal moving and led them back towards the trail. “I’ve never met a horse I didn’t like, and every one of them I’ve shot I’ve felt bad about, more than killing their rider usually. When you were little you would ride up front with me instead of Dutch and Hosea, just a skin and bone kid wanting to bother me instead of them.”

“If I was real good you’d let me.”

“Which you weren’t often.”

“Hey let me finish.”

“Fine.”

John started again. “If I was real good, you’d let me take the reins sometimes. It made me feel like you really trusted me then, letting me do that. I wanted you to like me, and it was really hard to get you to stop hating me, even when I was older.”

“Just cause I threatened you sometimes, a lot, doesn’t mean I hated you John.”

“Pretty sure you said exactly that. I hate you John.”

“You’re going to make me say it aren’t you?”

He received a light grin.

Arthur released a heavy sigh. “I never hated you John. I was just mad is all, and hurt. And when you were a kid, I didn’t really know how to act round kids, never really learned that cause my pa wasn’t good with me. I just, you got me so frustrated, you and that damn mouth of yours.”

John laughed. “Well I guess we don’t grow out of everything. Jack likes you a lot. You’re real good with him.” He paused. “I didn’t leave to hurt anyone Arthur. I just needed to breathe, felt trapped.”

“That’s cause you were looking at what you were losing and not what you were getting. Even a stubborn horse gets there eventually. You just, well after the way Micah was carrying on, I guess we’re all lucky you didn’t kill that man as he slept.”

“Carrying on with Abigail you mean?”

“I didn’t know you knew.”

“I didn’t. She told me later, said a lot of things after it was just us three. She said you looked after her too.”

“I should’ve killed that snake. It was against the code.” He reached forward and gave his horse a gentle pat on the head. “Enough talking for now.” And to his surprise, John actually complied.

They rode the rest of the way in silence, no wolves, no chatter, just the gentle sounds of a couple of horses going down a tried and true trail. They even got to hear a bird of prey soar above them, and Arthur felt tempted to pull out his binoculars and look, instead he gave them to John to use and have the man describe it to him. John needed to see these things, to really the world the way Arthur did. Maybe if John learned to love it, he’d spend less time hating the men that hurt them, or so he reasoned.

When they approached the little town of Old Belle it looked exactly like John said it would, a tiny spot of a place with the aspirations of being a real town one day. It had a saloon and some other building next to it, a general store that seemed to have the doctor’s office too. A blacksmith shared his space with the stables, and might even be run by the same man, but it didn’t have more than two or three horses for sale. The butcher stand looked clean but empty and had a sign that man was off attending a wedding. The hotel probably didn’t have more than a handful of rooms. Small but serviceable, just how Arthur liked them. He imagined being able to find all he needed here even if everything seem a lot smaller compared other towns.

“Let’s get to the saloon and get a drink, a meal. I’ll hitch the horses.”

Unexpectedly, John rejected the idea outright. “I want to make sure we get a bed tonight. Hitch the horses at the hotel, get yourself one of those baths you like, really enjoy it Arthur. I’ll take care of the rest and get a bath when you’re done, wash my hair even.”

Take care of the rest? Arthur frowned, but didn’t refuse as he hitched the horses while John went inside. He pulled out a cigarette to settle his nerves. It helped a lot when he experienced even a small crowd, especially when he glanced at the jail and sheriff office where a single man took a nap on a bench outside, his feet up on the railing bored out of his mind. John carried on like there was a lot to do, but Arthur just came up behind him and slipped the clerk some of his two dollars to get a bath. He didn’t need to be asked twice for a hot bath. 

Civilization gave him nice beds, hot baths and a good meal. He didn’t value much more than that, not really. Despite the fact he knew John acted a little weird just now, and the conversation he had last night with the strange man left him uneasy, Arthur did what he often did in a good bath, he just laid back and let his mind just settle, just clear and settle. He could’ve fallen asleep just like that, in hot water, smelling the fragrance of some soap and just easing away the toils of weeks’ worth of work. Eventually though he had to return to reality and scrub, scrub real good at his arms, legs and neck. The thing was, this time he didn’t dread walking out that room to the rest of the world because the rest of that world included John waiting for him. Arthur even smiled, picturing his too young lover making a fuss about something that needed no fussing about, and even then he was taken completed by surprise when he opened the door after getting dried and dressed to see John leaning there with his black hat partially covering his face, arms crossed and looking like he might just be napping standing up. For a moment Arthur realized what a danger Marston might actually appear to others with his gun-belt on his hips like that, and the way he just emitted don’t mess with me. 

“John?” 

Dark eyes revealed themselves when John lifted his head, and of course a familiar smile soon followed. “The clerk said I could use your bath if I was in a hurry, and I said I didn’t mind and wouldn’t be long.”

“Are we in a hurry?” Arthur felt and expressed his confusion. “I thought were just getting something to eat and maybe a drink.”

“Oh we are. I’ll need some time to clean up, especially my hair, but I’ll meet you downstairs when you’re done. Our reservation will keep a bit longer.”

“Done with what?”

Instead of answering John brushed past Arthur and closed the door between them. Of course Arthur wasn’t really up to causing a scene in the place he hoped to sleep in tonight, but that didn’t stop him from cursing on his way down the hall, past the innocent clerk who stepped back when he glowered at him, and then climbed the stairs to their room. It was only once inside that he finally realized what John made all the fuss about. On the bed, stacked nice and neat next to each other was a new shirt, pair of pants and a jacket, real fine like and pressed.

“Goddamn it John.” So this was what he hurried off to take care of, spending good money on silly things like nice clothes. He hoped he actually paid his taxes before he did all that. And of course nice clothes meant someplace they had to go to use them. He wasn’t sure which made him angrier, the clothes or whatever else John intended to surprise him with.

Arthur looked down at the new shirt and the pants that didn’t look like they could last more than a day of hard riding. Fine clothing usually meant stuffy people at crowded events and awkwardness, lots and lots of social awkwardness. He wanted to reject this. Had it been anyone else but John he would’ve too. Dutch and Hosea managed to get him into strange situations, pretending to be things he wasn’t. This was different. John didn’t want him to be anyone else, he just wanted him to dress up and go someplace nice, like a treat, like he were some damn dog. He should’ve known when John volunteered to take a bath and wash his hair something was up. 

He took a deep breath and began to remove his clothing, folding it nice, setting them neatly on the bed he hoped to climb into sooner than they would. This was all foolishness, but it wasn’t wasting money drinking until well past drunk, and it wasn’t women. If this turned out poorly at least he could tell Abigail he didn’t let John rush into a drunken fight or fuck some strange woman. Carefully he pulled on the cream colored shirt and took time with each button. Then came the pants, pressed and crisp and not comfortable at all. He felt strange just putting them on. Of course he tucked in the shirt just like Dutch showed him too and then came the jacket. Cautiously Arthur approached the mirror and realized his brown hat wouldn’t work with this get-up at all. Sighing he hung it on the chair and tried to smooth his hair a bit. He didn’t think John would like pomade, the smell or the slick of it, and he already knew he liked the stubble. Carefully he ran his fingers over the little hairs around his jaw and chin and smiled. “Damn it John, only for you.” He kept his guns though. This wasn’t some fancy party with armed guards. 

It probably took too long, but eventually Arthur managed to leave the hotel room and walk down the stairs to see John leaning against a wall near the door. He wore a light gray suit, a white shirt and the silly boy left his hat on. He thought about mocking him. John took a bath, got his hair all clean, and dressed in a nice suit, but he left that old hat on… their hat. No, no Arthur wouldn’t do that. Besides he knew the gun belt was off with his presentation, and John didn’t have those. Maybe he wasn’t as attached to violence as Arthur thought. “You look nice. So what kind of a place requires a reservation?”

John beamed, the nervousness easily vanishing while his eyes traveled Arthur’s entire body, almost too long, especially here in the open like that. “You do too. A nice place. Come on.” He didn’t say anything about the gun belt.

His arrogant little pup led them past the small dirt road where only a few wagons, a couple of lone horseman and a few unsavory looking walkers gave them nods or unfriendly looks. Arthur ignored them. When given a chance, he tried to be friendly towards the locals, but he didn’t trust his voice or judgment dressed in a suit going to some nice place John arranged for during the short time he had a bath. The clothes, well he figured the man must have ordered that some time ago, and all of this money being spent on him just made him uncomfortable. 

The building John led them to in a way reminded Arthur of Strawberry, like someone wanted make it nice and pretty on the outside with a deck and too much attention and green on the roof as if color itself might replace a forest. A man led them to a table, in the back away from windows and where they could see the door and most of the room easily. 

Once they sat down, Arthur peered at the menu, frowning at the fancy ways they described steaks and potatoes, something about lamb chops, and sweet pork chops too. Why would anyone put fruit on a pork chop? He preferred his apples whole not sauced. “John this place is… we can get a fine meal at the saloon for just a few dollars, even that lamb stew you talked about."

John smirked briefly, reached across the table and took Arthur’s menu when he put it down. “I don’t know if there’s lamb stew there or not Arthur. I just wanted to know if you liked the idea of lamb or not. Let me order for you. If I leave it up to you you’ll ask them for an apple and pear and just watch me clear my plate.”

“Still might.”

“Arthur, come on. Let’s just get something good to eat. Once the winter sets in, there won’t be anything left but Abigail’s cooking and…”

“You make it sound worse than it is John. We’ve gone days without, said so yourself.” Arthur reminded with a grumble.

“And some days I’d consider that again too. I thought she would go at me if I came back with your second helping of stew. If I actually skipped a meal or two she’d probably throw me out of the house for the night.” John’s brows rose suddenly.

“Don’t even think about it. I like my bed John.”

“You were fine with the stall before.”

Arthur reached for his menu, but John playfully pulled it away. A second attempt proved no better. 

John laughed. 

“Damn it John you’re making a scene.” And Arthur would’ve wound up making a bigger one too if he reminded the younger man he still packed heat in his punches. He settled back in his chair, the threat in his eyes clearly tempered by the presence of others.

“Actually you’re the one acting all uncivilized in here.” John chuckled quietly. “Don’t worry Arthur. I know you like it when I roast your birds. You had second helpings even.”

The little fucker said it that way on purpose, and of course Arthur felt his ears warm. “Damn it John so help me God I will…”

Someone cleared their throat and their waiter, a slight man with too slick black hair, a tidy mustache and a slight frown peered down at them. “Are we ready to order?”

Arthur straightened his back immediately and tried not to look like the fool he was. The man looked at him expectantly. Without a menu, he was about to order just as he threatened too, spend twice as too much for some fruit and maybe three times too much for beer when John commanded attention.

“Lamb chops for both of us, the baked potatoes, and collard greens, your largest biscuits with butter and beer.”

The man gave a nod to John and glanced at Arthur.

“What, what he said.” Arthur didn’t object, unwilling to reject John’s order outright in front of someone like that.

John leaned towards the waiter and motioned to the man with a finger, whispered something in his ear and then their waiter left.

“And what the hell was that about?” Arthur demanded.

“The order. I thought we discussed that.” John feigned innocence. 

“The whispering Marston.”

“Oh that, well it’s nothing really.”

That earned him an instant scowl. The beers came though so that at least gave him something to grab and nurse for a bit instead of imagining how many ways he intended to make John pay for this. 

“Oh relax Morgan. We’re in a nice place. We can have a good time if you let us.” John took a swig of his beer and nodded, satisfied. “Good beer.”

“Expensive beer.”

“Arthur…”

“I thought we were trying to save.”

“We are. It’s just a little fun for one night, and I paid my taxes when you got all clean and pretty for me.”

Don’t respond to that, his brain reminded, it will only encourage him. “And the clothes?”

“We’ll wear them again sometime, maybe even to church.”

“Jesus.” Arthur voice exasperated. 

“Exactly.”

This time Arthur continued to glare as he drank his beer. 

John leaned back and looked just a little too smug. “Well at least you don’t have to worry about anyone catching on about us. You don’t even look like you want anything to do with me right now.”

Arthur nibbled on his bottom lip, took a quick scan of the area and realized John was probably right. To all these folks, they probably looked less than tolerant of each other’s presence if it weren’t for the fact John couldn’t stop grinning like a clown. He took a couple more large swigs of beer and tried his darnest to relax. John did this so they could have fun, not torture. “So you planned this from the start?”

“There was some planning. I mean the wolves and things got us here a little later than I was hoping. There’s supposed to be a nice pond near town with some fish in it, different than what’s in the streams and rivers, but it was late.”

Arthur confirmed his exhaustion with a nod. “A part of me wants to hit the saloon after this, play some poker, drink some hard stuff but the truth is I’ll probably want to rest when we’re done.”

“Me too.” John confirmed. “A warm bed, some quiet… with you.”

“John…”

“I’m not saying we have to do anything Arthur. I just said quiet.”

Arthur snorted. “I might be older and weaker than before, but I ain’t dumb. You’re about as prone to quiet as Sean is to shutting up. He never shared at camp as much as you did though.”

John looked surprised. “You, you listened to that. I don’t remember you being around the camp fires that often, listening to me or anyone else.”

“I was near sometimes, in the shadows if I could manage. I heard you talk about how we used to help people, how you wondered if you might get to heaven because you didn’t think we’re the worst out there.”

John’s brows furrowed, and he seemed uncertain with how to respond to that. He drank his beer for a little bit and the only sounds came from the kitchen, the other conversations around them and a dog barking outside. “Do you, do you think we are that bad? I mean for years it just seemed like we weren’t, and then these last few were just, well…”

“I’ve seen bad men butcher other men, straight up just leave pieces of them everywhere. I saw women kidnapped, other gangs ambushing good folk and no matter what they did they were going to be killed. I saw a man up and shoot his horse in the head just because he wasn’t as fast as he thought he should be.” Arthur paused. “We killed folks we shouldn’t have, hurt folks that didn’t deserve to be hurt and took what wasn’t ours, but no, we weren’t the worst of em. I figure that counts for something. The fact I’m here says maybe someone thinks something of us.”

“We? Wouldn’t that just be you Arthur?’ John looked genuinely confused by that.

“I figure I was left with weaker lungs, so I wouldn’t go back to what I was doing, or make sure if I did I wouldn’t be at it long which meant I was sent back to be with… you. If I deserve you, then you must deserve me which means we can’t be that bad if we deserve each other and get another chance.”

“And you didn’t think about going to, to Mary?”

Arthur emptied his beer. “I didn’t even think about her till recently. I’ve never been what she wanted John, and by the time I was ready to let it all go…”

Their meals came, and he used that as an excuse to focus on something else; John let him.

For a little while they ate in silence, a little awkward but not painful so much as contemplative. He was impressed with how careful John ate his meal, cutting small bites, using a fork properly like he wasn’t raised in a camp with tin old bowls and just as likely to bite off a chunk of bread from a whole loaf than get a slice. 

John glanced up at him. “It’s really good.”

“It really is.” Arthur replied without a pause and matched John’s smile without hesitation. He kind of felt like a grinning idiot around John sometimes. Right now though, it felt good, real good and that fun, that relaxing John wanted them to enjoy, well he was appreciating it now. And that was before the waiter arrived at the end of their meal without a bill just yet and instead presented a bowl of something called… vanilla ice-cream.


	6. Chapter 6 – Evening 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes you get a little or a whole lot more than you ask for, as Arthur is about to find out.

By the time they left, Arthur felt full, John looked delighted, and they walked with ease towards the hotel; Arthur didn’t even mind the occasional glances they got as he walked just a little too close to John. Once they were in the room, Arthur took a seat on the bed and simply watched John move about the place as if he was trying to find just the right location to put his hat.

“Do you really hate civilization so much Arthur?” John asked.

“It’s like Dutch said; there’s no freedom in it, just noise, a whole lot of rules and rich people commanding everyone else. The mountains are too far away; the air is strange, and the water never tastes just right.” Arthur paused. “I like our home John. It’s not too busy; the stream is close, there are lots of trees, and if I’m real lucky I can sometimes see a real big buck, several points.” The last one he saw, he didn’t even shoot, just let him run a while longer. “If we’d gone west like we were supposed to, things might’ve turned out all right.”

John took a seat next to Arthur, but he didn’t look at him, and he didn’t reach out which caused worry immediately. “He left me to die Arthur. He said my boy, even after I confronted him, like… like he didn’t just...” John breathed in deeply as if it hurt to do so. “He left me die. I don’t know there ever was a future in it for us.”

“John…” Arthur swallowed thickly and felt real bad he led them back to all this again. He tried to draw on the courage his younger lover claimed he always had. “Dutch might have abandoned us long before he did that. He was talking crazy about your loyalty, and he left me twice and...”

John’s dark eyes locked with Arthur’s gaze. “Whatcha mean? When did he leave you?”

Was this wrong, Arthur wondered, talking about himself when he meant to soothe John’s wounds? “I was in a fight, feeling weak, in a real bad way so when we were ambushed…” Arthur shook his head, anger and hurt still stinging his heart. “I wasn’t going to win that one. He left me there, saw him just turn away, and he did it on the mountain too. I gave him all he had, all I knew to give except, except you. I wouldn’t give-up on you, and he walked away. John, it wasn’t just you.” And knowing that, would it make it worse or better? Arthur just didn’t know.

John didn’t look at all relieved or content with that. He laid his head against Arthur’s shoulder. “Dutch raised you. Dutch raised me. I don’t understand what we did in this life to make us so damn unlovable.”

Arthur raised a hand to John’s damp cheek, not really noticing the wet tracks until his thumb brushed against the warm skin. “Hosea raised us too. He might’ve pushed me into some of his silly and often dangerous cons, but he was good John. And damn it John, I raised you too, loved you too, still love you. There’s nothing unlovable about you. Dutch destroyed everyone around him except the snake eager to bite him. He didn’t love right if at all, but we figured it out somehow, even when it was hard, even when it hurt.” He paused. “You need to let him go, need to let all of it go.”

John shook his head. “Dutch and maybe even Micah, they’re still out there still breathing after what they did to you, to me.”

“You really going to kill Dutch?” Arthur asked quietly.

“I think about it all the time Arthur.”

“You’d pull the trigger?”

“I don’t, I don’t know.” John admitted. “I just want to know why. I never, I didn’t betray him. I didn’t do those things.”

Arthur sniffed his clean hair, thin yes, real dark but even washed John still smelled like John. “What do you think he can say to you that would make that hurt go away?”

John lowered his head, seemed to study his hands and a slight tremble traveled through his body. “He hurt you Arthur. He hurt me.”

“I want to tell you that I don’t want to see him, wouldn’t do anything he asked of me, but I just don’t want to lie to you.” Arthur nuzzled John’s ear as he continued to whisper knowing the contact might help focus his lover as it would help focus him. “Dutch raised me to follow, but he gave you a lot more rein to play with, and sure as hell you did. I ain’t a good man John, but I’m a better man than he intended me to be. You started thinking for yourself in ways I never did… you need to let Dutch go. You need to let Micah go. That trail is just the life again, and you don’t want that.”

John reached over and grabbed Arthur’s hand, turning it palm-side up and ran his thumb along the soft skin there. They remained in the hotel room, listening to the turning of wheels from late wagons, the shouting from some drunkards at the saloon and sort of giggling ruckus down the hall until Arthur finally broke the silence.

“Thank you for dinner John, and my bed, and the way you just watch me sometimes and… touch me like I’m worth something to someone.”

“You like that ice-cream?” John asked quietly.

“Yeah.” Arthur chuckled. “Sure was sweet and cold.”

“I don’t think it can be ice-cream if it’s not that Arthur.”

“Probably right.”

“When we come back, we can try another flavor.”

“Back?”

John lifted his head and turned towards Arthur, the brown eyes so full of warmth he almost forgot the hurt they spoke of earlier. “Spend your whole life in a camp of like twenty people, never felt crowded, not really, but with you I just, I want to spend some time with you Arthur, just you and me. We’ll be back. Maybe you can teach me how to swim.”

Arthur leaned forward and brushed his lips against John’s. “You never wanted to learn before and winter ain’t a real good time for that.”

“You didn’t push it that hard, and it didn’t seem important. Spring then.”

“I can’t fight you on every front John; I wouldn’t have time to do the complex things like eating and sleeping if I did that.” He paused, smiled and drew a deep breath. “When we get home, I’d… I’d like it if you went to bed with me, not all the time just, just once in a while. I like going to bed with someone near and not waking up always alone.”

John beamed. “You might not get much rest with me in your bed Arthur.”

Arthur scowled instantly. “You know I don’t want to be making no fuss around your woman and boy.”

“I…” John’s brow furrowed for a moment, and he stopped speaking for some time like he was about to really think through what he was to say. Arthur wasn’t sure if he was ready for something like that, but he listened and listened real good to what came next. “I ain’t saying you should sleep with her or anything, but Abigail is as good a woman to you as she is to me. She loves me something fierce for reasons I can’t right say, but Arthur, I don’t really have the power to convince her to want you to stay, and she does. As for Jack, we had two men who were like fathers to us, not real good ones, but they were better than what we started with. I figure between you and me, Jack’s going to be one of the best shots in the world, a really confused fisher, a middling hunter and damn good rider. And… and they both know what you mean to me.” Dark eyes hesitantly rose to meet Arthur’s. “There’s no secret Arthur. Jack’s a little young to really understand. Since he came from a whore I figure I ain’t really going to be the one to mess him up with sex anyway.”

Arthur raised a hand to John’s cheek. Did John really mean what he thought he was saying? “They know about us?”

“Since before our first time together.” John smiled, clearly emboldened by Arthur’s lack of anger. “She might have told me to stop making such a big hassle about everything and go fuck you already.”

A blush colored Arthur’s cheek immediately. “Well that’s pretty damn embarrassing John. You could’ve at least fucking told me that.”

“You were kind of cute thinking it was all a big secret and not talking about it, trying to sneak around with light touches and quick kisses. I’m going to miss that.” John admitted. “It was sort of like a game really, one that I didn’t want to stop playing.”

“That ain’t going to change. I’m not going to do more with you in front of them John.” Arthur paused. “I don’t think anyone has ever called me cute before.”

“That night in the stall, when you finally stopped me from stuffing myself, and you started eating quietly, and you finally came home with me, really came home… you were cute then too.”

Arthur exhaled, glanced at the floor and frowned for a moment. “You know how you keep telling me to tell you what I need John?”

“Yeah…” John looked real nervous now.

“Well what I need from you now John is for you to take me to bed.”

John licked his lips, his expression of disbelief tempered by hope. “Right now?”

Arthur nodded unable to suppress a smile.

John excitedly began to undress, throwing his jacket on the chair, yanking his new shirt out of his pants while Arthur carefully removed and folded his clothing and set it on the chair, not draped over it haphazardly and certainly not near it, but on the seated portion of the chair.

“So how do you want it Arthur?” John asked not able to get out of his pants fast enough which caused him to almost trip during his eager undressing.

“Like the first time.” Arthur muttered, trying hard, real hard to bite his tongue and not lecture him about treating his new clothes that way.

“We’ve only really done it two times Arthur, and the second barely counts as getting on. I can use that right, getting on?”

Arthur gave the young man a sideways glance, almost succeeding in not turning that into a glower. “John.”

“I’m just saying we can get creative.”

“I ain’t the creative type.”

The brunette was almost naked now except for one black hat, his undergarments and socks. He worked on the socks now, and they went in two different directions. “You draw at least an hour every day.”

“I draw what I see, not what I fancy.”

“Well that’s horseshit because you certainly write like one of them real writer type people, and that is emotions and stuff, not things you see.”

Arthur walked up to the younger man, carefully removed his old black hat, held it with one hand while he used the other to place on John’s shoulder to lean down and whisper to him. “You’re working your way right out of my bed Marston.”

“I don’t believe that.” John straightened his back to stand tall and remind Arthur of his height. “You wouldn’t just stop right now.”

Poor John, Arthur thought. It didn’t even matter whether John was right or not at this point. He knew how to win this, knew how to temper his compulsive, messy and just a little too nosy lover with a simple fact. “I went without for just about two years John. What’s your longest run?”

The challenge upon that scarred and charming face fell quickly, replaced by doubt and questions, as if he not only didn’t know if Arthur was bluffing but maybe realized he might just go without tonight, especially after promising his wife he wouldn’t find some whore. And if he did try that, Arthur kind of felt inclined to go find a deep forest to beat the shit out of him for trying, and not just for Abigail’s sake either. “I’m just saying we can try a few things you might like is all.”

Arthur withdrew and carefully placed John’s hat on the back of the same chair as his. “If we did the same thing every night for the rest of our lives, I would still like it.”

John approached him, raised a hand to his cheek gazed into his eyes. “I think you want to tell me to stop making a fuss over you. The truth is Arthur, I like it. It keeps me busy, keeps me from wanting to go back to the life.”

“I miss it too John.” Arthur admitted, turning slightly into the touch and closing his eyes. “But not enough to give up this.” He felt his ears burn with that admission. “Whatever we do, I want the lights out. It’s too bright in here for… that.”

“I know cities make you uncomfortable Arthur, sometimes even small ones.” John paused and cocked his head to the side as if considering something. “You don’t want me looking at you, to see you when we have sex.”

Arthur didn’t deny it. He wasn’t in the habit of lying to people he cared about.

“Look at me.”

Fuck, not this again. Arthur sighed inwardly. He knew John wouldn’t let up about this, and a part of him regretted asking to do this. Somehow he placed himself out on a limb with this request, and getting down might really disappoint John, which he didn’t want to do either. Punishing the little shit was one thing but letting him down… Hesitantly Arthur opened his eyes to see John peering at him, hand still against his cheek but no smile just warmth, just an easy expression of concern.

“Arthur you’re beautiful, and you’re strong, and you’re loyal and you’re hundred times more than the tool our gang treated you like.” John dropped his hand to Arthur’s neck and leaned forward until their foreheads touched. “If you want them out, we’ll put them out. I want the curtains open though, for moonlight, for the stars to shine through. Would that be okay?”

“If I say no?”

“I won’t think any less of you, and we keep them closed.”

For a few moments they stood there just like that, quiet and contemplative. Arthur felt John’s fingers push, gentle like at the back of his neck, a brief massage as he waited for a reply. “Lights out, curtain open.”

“Okay.” John brushed his lips against Arthur’s. “I’ll take care of the lights and then the curtains, just try to relax on the bed.”

Arthur gave a brief nod. Once John doused the lights and opened the curtains just enough to allow moonlight into the room to illuminate the windowsill, floor and a portion of the bed, John finished undressing, almost posed in that light to give Arthur another view of his spry, youthful and strong body before he climbed onto the bed like some sort of damn cat, stalking towards him.

John’ s confidence, playful expression and silly and exaggerated approach helped Arthur settle again, the ease allowing him to actually do what John ordered him to do, relax. And as soon as John was in reach, Arthur reached out, grabbed his shoulders, and ran both hands down his back until the naked man was close enough to grant him a kiss, a good one this time with tongue and smiling lips and a slight moan shared between them.

Once they parted, Arthur spoke with a little more eagerness than he realized he initially he felt. “Tell me what to do John. I need to know what you like, how to, how to please you, be a good lover. I don’t know I’ve really been that for anyone.”

John pursued kissing again, and Arthur allowed it, even while John began speaking quietly as he did so. “I like it when I lean in like I am going to kiss you, and you open your mouth, lift your chin eager for it. I like it when I surprise you, and I get that little hitch in your throat, those little sounds humming in your chest. I like it when we kissed, and you tasted yourself. I would’ve paid good money to get a photograph of your delicious surprise with that. I like it when you press your cheek against my hand. I like how you blush when I tease you, and how you let me order you. Arthur… I like a whole lot of you; you don’t need to do anything different to make sure I get what I need because in trusting me, in wanting me, you’re letting me get that and more.”

Arthur bit his lip, weighing his options and trying not to allow his emotions to overwhelm him even if they made his eyes glisten, just a little. “Let’s, let’s say we get a little… creative tonight. What would that look like?”

“Are you sure you want to try?” John asked quietly.

Arthur nodded.

“Okay.”

John smoothly slipped off Arthur and then the bed, leaving Arthur feeling suddenly cold and strangely alone. He watched his young lover though, carefully, wary but still confident in his choice, especially when he saw the man return with a small jar of slick tucked under his fingers.

“Remind me to talk about having that in reach, so you don’t have to abandon me like this every time.” Arthur teased.

“Oh shut-up Morgan.” John snapped with a smile, climbing back onto the bed. “Everything we need is in that stall of yours but we’ve never had a chance to use it.”

Arthur raised his brow. “My stall?”

“Don’t play dumb. I know you’ve looked at that clean stall many times, noticed the blanket, the jar… the beer.”

“Less beer now.”

John stretched out alongside him and gave his shoulder a quick kiss as well as a gentle bite. “I was saving that for our moments.”

Arthur ran his fingers through John’s clean hair, still marveling at the feel of it, so light and silky really. “I’ve got enough left to buy a couple before we leave.”

“More than a couple, and some real stuff too, good whiskey.”

Arthur nodded while he watched John open the jar, warm some of the content with his palm and fingers and then apply it liberally to his hardening cock. Without really thinking, he looked away, a light heat rising to his cheeks which naturally caused John to chuckle.

“God Arthur, when you get shy like that it, it just makes me want you more.”

“Don’t, don’t say things like that.” Arthur objected, but it was as weak objection that ever came out of his mouth. Hearing John say that, well it stirred something in him, something hot that settled deep inside him and made his own cock harden. He didn’t understand his response or John’s, but he went with it, trusted his partner enough to not fight it too hard this time.

“On your knees Old Boy.”

At least he understood this part enough. He wasn’t so naïve that he’d never seen two men get it on, either in the darkness of the night, hidden within dark alleys or discreet sheds when they thought no one was looking. But he was surprised when he rose to his knees as instructed and intended to turn around, to present himself to John but the younger man placed a hand against his hip to stop him.

“Not like that old man, not your hands and knees.” John rocked his hips until he was almost center and back of the bed, the spot where Arthur had been moments ago. “Crawl over me, face me, right up here.”

And he knew almost immediately what John was going for only, only he wasn’t sure he could do that. Even with as little light as they had in the room, he could see John watching him now, studying his reaction, and maybe even deciding how to ask again. “John…”

“You were a little uncomfortable last time, just a little at first. This will give you more control Arthur. I should’ve started us this way, get you used to me first and I, well I didn’t really think…”

It occurred to Arthur just then that maybe John read him wrong, that he thought his reluctance to go beyond just the touching and the kissing and the quiet moments together had something to do with not wanting a repeat of their first time together. But it wasn’t that. He didn’t like going at it in their old camp with everyone around and preferred private and small camps or hotel rooms, away from the prying ears and eyes of others or at least in places so busy no one would notice the extra noise. Hell even a whore’s room was different, expected but the thought of others hearing, snooping around someone he actually cared about… It wasn’t their affair, their business, and he wanted to protect himself as well as John from that kind of meddling. “It didn’t last.” Arthur mumbled.

John reached for him. “What didn’t?”

Awkwardly Arthur tried to crawl over John, do as instructed but the act itself sort of, well he never straddled a woman quite like this and even in the mostly dark room he could feel and see John’s eyes rake over his body. It shamed and excited him. “That uncomfortable feeling when you were...” He licked his lips trying to find a way to say what he didn’t want to say.

“Inside you?”

“Yes.” John spared him the attempt. Was it strange to love him more for that, for seeing the struggle and then easing it?

“I won’t lie to you Arthur. I want to take advantage, see you blush, hear your gasps of surprise, see you hesitantly do things knowing they’ll please me even if you aren’t so sure as I am you’ll like it too but…” John reached out and brushed his fingers along Arthur’s bare thigh when he stopped just short of their hardening cocks touching. “I’m hoping I can keep most of that and still have you comfortable with me. Scoot just a bit more forward.”

Arthur listened carefully to what John said, processing his observation as well as his request and complying. As soon as he did, John lifted his knees a bit and gave Arthur something to lean against if he wanted to. Comfortable. Okay. That shouldn’t be too hard. John might be dumb as a rock sometimes, but he trusted him with things like this, and he was gentle when Arthur wanted to be, harder when it was good time to do that. And if he read John right, his lover John, this was a lot of words to say he wanted him to explore a little, in a position that gave him a lot more control over all this than the previous run. Show him, his inner voice whispered. Show you want to, want this. He might be an old man, but his body still complied, most days, so Arthur leaned forward, trying to hide his reaction to having his cock brush against John’s and then pressed against his belly when he leaned forward far enough to balance the weight on his knees and John’s outstretched body so he could brush his lips against the other man and then kiss him, real gentle like. Because John chuckled into his open mouth, he knew his attempt to hide that early expression of feeling another man’s cock against his abdomen failed but the open mouth, the gentle touch of a tongue and then a soft sigh made it easy to continue. And he liked this, the quiet drawn out kiss, the way John lifted both hands to run along his curved and bare back. John stroked his back, even conscious of healing bruises and a few cuts from his fall on the road. Jesus, was John always this considerate and he just missed it?

When their lips parted, Arthur sat up, and John smiled at him, easily seen even with barely any light. He moved his hand to the front of his body, palm exploring chest muscles and brushing against nipples, enough to make him shudder in pleasure and breathe a little harder.

“How that feel?”

Arthur furrowed his brow briefly. “You talking the kissing or the, the sitting?”

John moved both hands to Arthur’s strong thighs, the coarse fingertip tracing circular patterns on his skin. “Either, both.”

“John…” Arthur wasn’t sure he really wanted to have conversations about these sort of things, and of course as soon as his eyes dropped away from John to focus on a spot of light on the wood wall the man corrected him.

“Arthur, look at me.”

“John…”

“Come on now.” Arthur sighed and complied, waiting for the next lecture or explanation, but it didn’t come. Instead, once their eyes locked John just stayed quiet, just sort of looked at him and resumed the stroking. He wasn’t sure why or how really, but little by little felt the tightness in his neck eased up, the nervous stirring in his stomach settled and eventually he covered John’s hands with his larger palm and thick fingers. It was almost like how they were at dinner, towards the end of it and was just enjoying their meal, just being and all the people, all the world really just sort of greyed out, a little like up in the mountain, or in the forest with the wolves and man except… John was with him.

“That’s better right?” John asked.

Arthur nodded.

John took his hand and pulled him forward just enough to place Arthur’s hand on his shoulder. He didn’t need further instructions from this point. Arthur just ran his palm along the man’s shoulder, marveling at the strength there that didn’t manage to hide the bony and lither nature of his lover’s body. John filled out a bit, eating, working and enjoying a rancher’s life, but he didn’t soften, didn’t really lose that edge or the fact the man was just built smaller than him. He marveled at the feel of his skin, paused where a bullet must’ve struck him years ago. Why didn’t he remember that? Maybe he wasn’t there. John went out alone too, gone for a whole year without really saying what happened to anyone. His hand moved down his upper-left arm, pausing to circle the scar there. He knew when that one happened, and he drew a sharp intake of breath, his heart quivering, worried, and sorrowful he just ruined everything by touching it.

“Worst day of my life.” John whispered. “And the best.”

Arthur’s eyes moved from the man’s shoulders back to John’s face, an unuttered question on his tongue that of course John answered.

“My brother, my family… he sided with me against a whole lot of people even if it was going to mean he’d die. He didn’t leave me, and he gave me everything.”

Arthur moved his hand to cover John’s heart and pressed ever so gently.

“I told a few, my gang left me to die, and I left them. You weren’t, aren’t my gang Arthur. You’re what Dutch and Hosea always promised, family. They gave me that at least.”

This time Arthur copied John’s usual actions, lifting his hand to the man’s face, feeling a little stubble but mostly clean shaven. Arthur pressed his palm just under John’s jaw and pushed, lifting his chin so when he dropped down to kiss him again, their lips met easily. “They promised you more than that.” He whispered.

“Yeah, but they left me the best part at least.” Another quick kiss followed by a grin, a wide one too from the feel of it. “The jar’s near. You wanna do more exploring or you want to ride me cowboy?”

Arthur snorted a brief laugh. “Only folks ever call me that are city folk, that or country boy. I think I like Old Boy better.”

“Don’t seem to mind old man much.” John challenged, but only a little

He didn’t deny it. From John’s lips that felt almost as endearing, either with a tease or during passion. “I want both.” Arthur decided, out loud. “Give her here.”

Naturally John complied, and real quick like too. The excitement must have got to him because he almost tossed the jar at him, and John’s cock hardened even before Arthur got a chance to open the lid and warm the content. As Arthur heated the slick slowly and carefully, he tried to restore some of that confidence John wanted to instill in him; it mostly worked. “Gunslingers. Those cowboys might ride hard, but they don’t draw like me and sure as hell not like you.”

John pushed himself up a bit by his elbows. “You still think I’m better?”

“Faster, good in a duel.” Arthur didn’t duel that often. He figured something like that was better suited for John’s mouthy and quick tempered style, not that he didn’t have a temper on him. Arthur knew he did. He’d killed a few men with just his hands or a knife at a bar fight or two. Then he was ready.

Arthur figured any healthy man knew himself pretty good, managed to stroke one off now and then, and he was no different. Another man, now that was different. When he reached down between them and just sort of brushed his hand along John’s cock, he didn’t exactly realize he was holding his breath until John released a happy exhale. A part of him wished he could see better, but another part of him realized in a bright light, well Arthur wasn’t brave in every regard. Even though John’s sharp eyes likely saw him pretty well, even in this partial darkness, the older man felt the shadows gave him enough cover to continue, using the tips of his slick fingers to glide along the hot flesh, feel the pliable skin along the hard length and marvel at how patient John seemed to be right now. His young lover didn’t thrust forward, didn’t ask for more and just lied there, watching him, quiet. John didn’t move at all until Arthur wrapped his fingers around the eager cock and began to stroke up and down, sort of coating him liberally but mostly teasing, giving him pleasure and being rewarded for it with a low moan.

“Don’t forget yourself.” John murmured.

Light eyes lifted to see John gazing at him because of course he was. “But I ain’t…”

“I just want to see it Arthur. I want to see and hear you pleasure yourself.”

It felt stupid to feel a blush rise again, sitting naked as he was, their cocks nearly touching with his hands slick and attentive to John’s eager flesh, but it came anyway. His cheeks and ears burned, but he did as he was asked too. He gathered a little more and rubbed, encircled and stroked his own cock, but he denied John a chance to hear him moan. He swallowed every sound he could except hard breathing simply because he didn’t want to seem, well whorish and easy which granted also seemed dumb considering how long he’d gone without… cept that one time.

“Arthur.”

“I can’t rightly do this without looking.”

John laughed, not a mocking or cruel laugh, just one that came with a gentle challenge. “You telling me every time you rubbed one off you looked.”

Arthur pursed his lips, breathing hard while his hand stilled. Of course he didn’t, so why did he say that now? “Course not.”

John sat-up straighter, looking less relaxed but somehow he managed to scoot back so he could prop his back against the headboard. Strong fingers grabbed Arthur’s ass and hips and kind of pulled forward. “Come closer Arthur, real close.”

He felt more reluctant this time, but after a couple of tugs moved carefully, up and over, and close enough where he now felt John’s slick flesh brush against his ass behind, and John could almost wrap his arms around him.

His young lover leaned forward and kissed him just above the navel. “You’re still shy with me, don’t want me to watch you stroke yourself.”

“Sorry.” Arthur dropped his head and tried to find something else to focus on as he felt a sense of dread try to envelope him. He wasn’t doing this right.

“Arthur please look at me. I ain’t trying to shame you. Please Arthur.”

Reluctantly, and with a sigh, Arthur complied.

“Now, I want you to promise me that unless you close your eyes, you’re going to stay right here with me, just for tonight, just for a little awhile.”

“K.” Arthur agreed immediately because he felt in his heart he wanted to even if his mind wanted to weigh the chances of success.

John smiled. “Now put your hands on my shoulder.” When Arthur gripped his shoulders, nice and tight, the man continued. “Good, yeah like that. Now I am going to position myself and spread you so you can go down as slow or fast as you want, probably should be slow.” He paused. “Remember you can close your eyes or you look at me, not away. Got it?”

Arthur nodded.

When John proceeded, he found it a lot harder to keep looking at those pretty whites even in the dark than focusing on the discomfort and pain of feel the head of John’s slick cock press against his entrance. He’d been shot, tortured, pounced by bear and cougars and stabbed, and all of that seemed mild compared to trying to hold John’s gaze as he lowered himself onto his lover’s cock. He chuckled though, a low sound that readily drew a question.

“What?”

“Just thinking about you hiding that stew from your wife after all you’d been through, and that scared you more.”

“Wolves ain’t got nothing on Abigail’s fury.” John lifted his hand to Arthur’s face, his thumb brushing over Arthur’s lips.

That helped. Helped a lot.

Experimentally, Arthur opened his mouth and drew the thumb in, suckling and gaining a little gasp from the younger man in the process. He lowered himself more, closing his eyes briefly, squeezing them really as he felt the bulbous head push past his tight ring and settle inside him. When he opened them again, he didn’t see John any better, but he heard him breathing, groaning a little. This hurt more than before, stretched Arthur real good, and he figured they probably ought to have prepared more except, well this felt natural, like how he imagined two men might come together in a hotel room when none were really the wiser. John was gentle before, mostly, authoritative, but gentle. Here John seemed almost passive, or at least as calm and allowing to lead as someone like John could ever be. Maybe he was showing him choices, letting him know what they could do.

Arthur took a breath and lowered himself again, inch by inch, breathing faster and deeper, and going with closed eyes until he found himself fully settled against John’s lap and propped knees.

“How’s that feel?”

“Full.” He replied without thought again, and it felt right, like he wasn’t saying or doing the wrong thing if he just stopped thinking about all this too long.

John smiled, and it seemed strange how Arthur could read and respond to John’s expressions almost like instinct, like back in the tent when John claimed he could feel Arthur’s response even when he didn’t see it.

“Now what?”

“Now you ride me, your pace, use your knees. I know you know how to do that.”

Arthur already knew the answer to that, had a woman more than once and understood the mechanics of this, but hearing his lover confirm it freed a lot of uncertainty and triggered a certain amount of comfort in him again. “Marston, you sure you ain’t getting lazy on me? This looks like you got me doing all the work, as usual.”

John smirked. “Well the horse has to carry you and all.”

“A horse is barely even bothered by a man being on his back.” He fell quiet, and despite his best effort, he felt heat rise to his cheeks when he used the strength of his thighs and knees to lift and then lower again. “It okay if I don’t talk anymore?”

“Yeah Arthur.” John whispered, strain in his voice, fingers pressing gently against Arthur’s hips.

Arthur nodded. Good. He wasn’t sure if he said that out loud or not. What he did do next though was tighten his hands against John’s shoulders for leverage, enough to bruise maybe. Experimentally, he used the strength of his thighs to rock back and forth, at first to see how much pleasure he could get from that; then he lifted and lowered himself. Jesus. It felt strange, felt good, real good to just do that. He also realized, feeling the muscles of his abdomen tighten like they were, the pull with his thighs… yeah the little fucker was making him do all the work, but it felt too good to stop. In fact, he sped up pretty quickly, wanted to feel more like it was that one night, when John startled him a few times with the strength and depths of his thrusts. He wasn’t quite getting there though. Arthur furrowed his brow, concentrated on adjusting angles and speed until he almost fond that spot again, almost until hands were suddenly against his pulsing cock and stroking him firmly.

He forgot he closed his eyes. Forgot for a minute or so that he rode John, of all people, that _his_ John lied beneath, coaxing him, usually speaking to him until his eyes shot open again and there he was, silent because Arthur asked not to talk anymore, his fingers drawing a deep moan from him. It frightened him to think that he stopped thinking of John for even a moment in pursuit if something primal, after pleasure without consideration for his lover or even who his lover was, as if John didn’t matter. Another part of him, a deeper part of him, realized that he would never be in this position with anyone but John, trusted no one like this but John, and he certainly wouldn’t open his eyes, see those dark globes that look just that, dark, no true color, in the darkened hotel room simply because the man wanted to remind him he was in love and loved… always.

Arthur licked his lips, nervously accepting, no wanting to be led. He needed that as much as he wanted the pleasure and John’s touch, needed to hear that raspy voice that warmed his heart just from the sound of it. “Tell me John, tell me what to do.”

John didn’t stop stroking Arthur cock, but the smirk was almost heard as he complied. “Lean back, against my thighs, yeah like that, roll your hips… kind of like how you tame them, only slower, gentler. I’m not going to throw you.”

“No one will ever tame you.” Arthur muttered, but complied and found a good rhythm almost immediately, even when John played a little and lifted his hips now and then, a nice sharp thrust that drew not just moans but grunts of pleasure from the older man.

“Nah.” But John agreed as he breathed heavily. “But you’re doing a damn good job in breaking me Arthur.”

Arthur paused, and for an instant the sound of slick flesh against flesh was dominated by hard breathing and the muffled sounds from outside the room. “Breaking?” He didn’t want to talk but also didn’t understand and felt he needed to.

“I don’t know why any man would ever choose killing over getting more time to spend with you. You’ve gone and broke the gunslinger in me.” John laughed.

It felt like someone took a set of spurs and dug them into his sides. John’s admission, the hope and the love and the desire all wrapped into that simple statement gave Arthur a spurt of energy, as strong as even the best tonic. He’d feel it in the morning with sore thighs, a burning back and too stiff abs, but Arthur leaned back again and just drove her home. He rolled and rocked his hips like he really was trying to tame an unruly mount, and he felt a notable thrill to hear John’s hips in response and nearly lost it when that spot was struck inside him, the one that made him see stars. And he didn’t stop, not when the aches came, not when his lungs felt a bit of a burn, and not when it seemed like John wanted him to slow down a little. He even squeezed the inner muscles of his ass once twice, really acknowledging that hard flesh thrust inside him and gained a good hiss from his lover in the process too. Arthur wanted John to abandon himself to the pleasure, and after a few hard rocks later, the man did. It became the second time in his memory that something wet and hot emptied inside him, a sensation not fully common yet but wholly wanted. And though he was worried about making a mess of this place with his own release, John cautiously drove him to climax, ensured the white sticky mess spread across his lower body and not the wall, not the bed just minutes later. It didn’t take a whole lot. John challenged him enough holding out like he did, and this old man, well he just felt fully overwhelmed as well as satisfied from it all.

Like before, they rested a little bit before John got busy using towels he swiped from somewhere to clean Arthur first and then himself. Arthur felt like it took a good ten minutes before his breathing got back to normal and even longer before he felt like he was surrounded by hot swamp air since his body still felt so heated. As they cooled a bit, eventually they climbed into the bed together and just let everything calm down. John almost looked asleep within a few minutes.

Arthur draped a hand over John’s side and drew him close. Sharing a pillow like this, a bed in this way, John’s legs soon entwined with his, and their foreheads almost touching, Arthur felt confident he never felt this close, this comfortable or this connected with any other individual. And from the sounds of it, maybe not John either. Maybe, just maybe he’d already steered John from that lethal gunfight neither of them really knew much about. He needed John to know he felt pretty much the same way, but he wasn’t good with saying things like that so he thought he’d try a different way.

Very gently Arthur lifted his hand and ran his fingers through the thin and dark strands, his light eyes watching John’s peaceful expression. The man wasn’t asleep; he knew that. Oh he was good at pretending, always had been. It gave him an escape more than once from Dutch’s wrath, Hosea’s lectures and perhaps even from more tongue lickings from Abigail.

“I didn’t go back to kill that man because I didn’t know how I would react when I saw him.” Arthur whispered, so softly he wasn’t even sure John would hear him. His eyes dropped and he focused on nothing atop the small amount of sheeting between them. “I was afraid instead of killing him, I might ask him why.”

“Why he did that to you?”

Arthur’s gaze returned to John’s now open eyes abruptly. Even though he knew the younger man hadn’t fallen asleep yet he didn’t really expect to have an actual conversation about this which was something south of stupid. John questioned everything and everyone. Why would now be any different? Why should it be any different? “Why he dragged me outside, threw me away at the risk of being attacked or killed by some animal or someone just wondering by. Why I wasn’t worth anything, to even him, even after that.” He felt heat rise to cheeks, shame weigh his heart down, and his eyes naturally wanted to return to that space between them except this time John’s hand was there, against his cheek and with only a little pressure encouraging him not to look away. John didn’t say anything though. It was as if he somehow just knew to listen, at least for the moment. He didn’t lower his head when he continued, but his eyes dropped again as he felt a knot build in his stomach. “There’s something wrong with me to worry about something like that, as if waking up in that old dirty house in the man’s bed or the floor would’ve made a lick of difference. It’s sick. It’s awful. It’s…”

“Deep breath Arthur.”

His eyes lifted to see John’s steady gaze, and he obeyed, actually obeyed. At some point he must have started breathing hard and real fast, and didn’t realize it. So he drew in another deep breath followed by another until he felt his anxiety and heart slow again.

“It ain’t any of that.” John whispered. “You’ve been hit real hard in the heart, a few times now. Arthur, I’m not going to discard you, throw you away. I love you Arthur, and not for what you might do one day or might be, just how you are, right now.” John traced his jawline slowly. “If you said no to everything I asked of you Arthur, that wouldn’t change. And you would end that man if you went back, beat him bloody and shoot him dead. If not for you then someone else, his next victim. I know you don’t think that right now, but the Arthur Morgan I know would remember himself, and he would tell that bastard he was done for even before you finished him. It’s okay to have doubts though and lose yourself sometimes. God knows I have.” He paused. “I hope…” John glanced away briefly as if uncertain about what he was about to say. “I hope you never feel forced by me, not about, not like that.”

“You don’t force me, just a push little. I’ve always needed that John, just some convincing. I guess that’s why it was so easy for the masters of talk like Hosea and Dutch were to persuade me for so long.”

That confident smile returned to John’s scarred face, and Arthur felt little else but happiness to see it again. “Well it was a good dream to sell, for a while. Can I push you to let us sleep in tomorrow? Even if we get a late start we’ll make good time.”

He nodded. “Sure John.” Arthur closed his eyes and scooted just a little closer.

John’s hand fell from his face and just sort of covered his hand.

“Arthur.”

“Hmmm?”

“Thank you for telling me that, for trusting me with that.”

Arthur didn’t know what to say, and he didn’t open his eyes, partially due to fear of what he might see and also because he wasn’t sure if he could hold it together if he did see those eyes peering at him with the warmth so often found there. So instead he turned his hand slightly so he could squeeze John’s hand. He hoped that was enough, knew it was enough when John returned the squeeze.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this little venture. I thought this might be a little longer than it is, but I also felt I achieved the moments that I wanted as is.

**Author's Note:**

> This one wasn't as smooth as the other piece I did, but I really enjoyed certain moments. I hope you do too. Chapter 2 should be out this weekend, I hope, but like 1 it has some not as smooth transitions, more of them, that I am trying to iron out a bit.


End file.
